Running From the Flames
by T.H.W
Summary: This is the fourth installment of the Bright Eyes series. If you want to read the others, click on my name. Someone is wreaking havoc on several places in New York. The problem is they are being especially planned with no rhyme or reason. The Higgins chil
1. Default Chapter

"Running From the Flames"  
  
  
  
*Author's Note: First of all, I want to thank all you great Newsies reviewers who have reviewed my stories. There are so many of you and combine them with my bad memory......well lets just say thanx to all of you, even if I can't remember your names!!! But I do remember a few: Kora, Iris, Dream Socks, Bam. Thats all I can remember right now, but remember, if I didn't say your name, don't feel like you're left out. Trust me, you guys are well remembered, somewhere in the deep abyss of this brain of mine!! (My brain's gotta mind of it's own ya know!!) ;-) Thanx again and here's the fourth installment of the Bright Eyes series.*  
  
  
  
  
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Twenty years have passed since the Newsboys strike of 1899. Times have changed. Buildings continue to grow higher and higher, wages are increased, jobs are different than they were before. Not just the material things in New York have changed though. The people who inhabit it have changed as well. Since the last time the small Newsie band had been together, their families had increased. Since then, Bright Eyes has once again become a mother, this time to a daughter, now nine years old. Spot Conlon's brood has increased from only the twins to six more young children. Even Jack Kelly took on a bride and is the father to four children. The children of the Newsies and their friends have had many great adventures, including that of following the trail of Oscar Delancy. But little do the Newsies and their children know, that the adventures are merely beginning.  
  
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	2. Return to Manhattan

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Grabs yelled out the headlines loudly, waving his papes energetically in the air and flashing a smile to the passersby. It hadn't been a terrible day. Not a great day either, but still, suitable enough for him. He waved his paper in the air again, but swallowed, giving his sore throat a chance to relax for a moment. When he did this, he looked down the road and sighed. Joy was there. Joy was Kid Blink's daughter and his best friend's sister. It was an awkward situation for a boy of seventeen to express his feelings for a girl that he had known all his life, but he felt he was making do pretty well. Things had changed so drastically in the past few years.   
  
For one thing, he was seventeen years old. It was unusual to him to be that old. He thought it made him sound like an old geezer, but his father was older and he didn't look a day passed twenty, so he figured he didn't look TOO old. His father never really seemed to age actually. Nor his mother. They both seemed timeless. Of course everyone always second guessed his father's age if they didn't know Racetrack personally. And they would most always be wrong. It was the same with his mother. His mother was a very important thing in his life. She was always vibrant and full of life. It was this energy that kept him going somedays.   
  
Fairy was like that as well, but not as much as Angel. Fairy was sixteen and his 'baby' sister had grown up to be thirteen years old. It seemed almost unreal how old he and his siblings were. Where did the time go? Fifteen year old Picks and Pockets hadn't changed since their childhood, always getting into trouble, always causing mischief. It was even worse because they both had a crush on the same girl. Grabs shook his head with a small chuckle. His little brothers would of course choose to take a liking to the first born daughter of Brooklyn. Jade Conlon, fifteen, had grown up to be a beauty, just as her proud father had foretold when she was born. Her looks far surpassed the other's expectations, her looks reminicent of her father's proud face, with her mother's soft expressive eyes. Those eyes which had given her her name, became more green as she grew, sparkling almost alive things was the way the twins described them. And they were quite accurate in their descriptions.   
  
Poor somewhat shy Pockets would try to win her affections in one way, while his more outgoing brother Picks would keep Jade laughing with his jokes, often causing fights among the two brothers. Sometimes Pockets would simply give up and shuffle off, but Jade would call after him, causing dismay to Picks. It was humorous situation to Grabs, but he didn't care. He had his own crush to deal with. Joy was beautiful, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, since a few years ago. It was funny how he had never really noticed before, how her eyes sparkled and shone, and how her golden hair glistened like the finest gold in the sunlight. She had captured him hook, line, and sinker, and he didn't know how to cope.   
  
But he knew he wasn't the only sibling of his family to deal with liking someone. His sister Sunshine, Angel's twin, thirteen, had always been shy and dreamy, and so it was understandable that she didn't know how to deal with the fact that she liked the first born son of Spot Conlon. Sketch Conlon had long grown out of his drawing habits, but he was still what the others would call, slick. He had inherited his father's looks and ways through and through, making any girl smile and giggle by merely winking his gray-blue eyes in their direction.   
  
But the thing was, Sketch rarely had respect for the girls he flirted with. Merely toyed with them, then dropped them rather unceremoniously. But he had always been respectful of the girls in the Higgins family. "He betta continue ta be dat way too. Uddawise if he hoits Sunny, I swear I'll pound him flat." Grabs muttered protectively under his breath. If it wasn't bad enough that Sunshine liked Sketch, it was even worse that he was older than she, only two years, but two years too many for the shy Sunshine. She could barely speak to him without her voice trembling, much less tell him of her affections. So far Sketch had been anything but disrespectful towards her, but still, Grabs kept his eyes open, just in case.   
  
His other siblings were either not interested in the opposite sex, or simply were too young. Fairy had never really cared for any particular boy. She merely smiled and chatted with them, not knowing that she was drawing them in slowly but surely with her enchanting ways. Taps was simply too young to be thinking of girls at eleven, but that didn't stop him. Merely for the sake of comparison, Grabs thought that he could be a miniature of Sketch Conlon in his dashing ways. Winking his deep blue eyes and smiling at girls was not beyond him, and he did it daily, much to his family's dismay. Grabs' sister Angel, Sunshine's twin, was the opposite of her twin. She was outgoing and outspoken, willing to say anything, anytime, anywhere, no matter the consequences. She looked most like her mother but did not care to flirt with boys. She merely wanted to hang out with them. She was a tomboy of sorts, more so than the rest, but the problem was her looks were so fetching, that most of the boys were tongue-tied around her. This was primarily the reason that she was simply not interested in them. Cowboy, now fourteen, was still a dreamer, though a little more practical than he had been formerly. He too thought of girls, but like Sunshine, was too shy to say anything.  
  
His youngest sister, the newest edition to the Higgins family was now nine years old. The only real way to describe her was to say she was an 'snow maiden'. Flaxen, almost white hair, light blue eyes, and a fair complexion made her quite a pretty little girl. The Higgins' youngest was charming in her little ways, the way she scrunched up her tiny nose when she laughed, the way she smiled, the way she would sit on her father's lap and babble to him about her day. The only way to describe her was charming. Her name had come from the descriptive phrase 'snow maiden.' After Spot had seen the little girl after she was born, he smiled and called her that very phrase. Grabs had grinned and said, "So Mama, is she made of ice?" The parents had looked at each other, smiled and Deirdre Rose Higgins was christened Ice.   
  
Generally Ice spent all her time with Taps. She adored Taps. Anything he did was right and good, even though he was no angel. She sold papers with him and he would look out for her. It was a thing he was proud of, the fact that he was responsible for his baby sister and he cherished the duty, but it got obnoxious when he wanted to play with his friends and she wanted to tag along. But still, it could be said that the big children took care of the little children, and the little children took care of the very little ones, and they all took care of their parents. Between nine of them, they brought in quite a bit of money with their selling the papes.   
  
Racetrack was now thirty-five years old, Bright Eyes thirty-four. Though Grabs may have thought the both of them were timeless, they certainly didn't seem to think so. Racetrack still worked in the Manhattan Distribution Office and Bright Eyes continued to help him. Together they made a perfect team, both out of their work and while doing their work. Whatever they did together flowed perfectly, as if it had been formerly planned. That was the same with raising their large brood. It had frightened Racetrack somewhat the hot sweltering day that Grabs had been born.   
  
It was so hot that day, and it didn't help his nerves any. He paced outside the room where Bright Eyes was, and ignored Jack and Spot's snide comments about him making holes in the floor and how Kloppman would have a fit. He wasn't sure what he would do. It was his first child. He and Bright Eyes hadn't raised enough money to buy their own place and were still living in the Lodging House, which offered little or no privacy. And with a new baby. He was worried about everything. But he finally realized that he could make everything work when he saw his little son for the first time.   
  
Before he was scared to death, and he was still scared, but it diminished slightly when he saw his first born son. He had confessed his fear to Bright Eyes before she had Grabs, and she had confessed the same kind of fear. "You shouldn't be so afraid. You ain't havin' da baby." She said with a smile, but Racetrack could still see the fear that she harbored. It was then that he placed his palm over her hand and whispered, "Den we'll git through it tegedda 'kay?" With a nod and a spit-shake, they agreed and they had carried it out throughout their seventeen years of marriage. True it had been hard, but they both got through it. They helped each other raise their nine children and they both comforted each other at the loss of their other two babies who hadn't had the chance to live. They were there for each other, and that was all that counted.  
  
Grabs was startled out of his daydreaming when a low voice spoke out. "Heya Grabs! Hows da papes sellin'?" He looked up quickly and saw the smiling face of Craps and Joy. Craps was Joy's sister and one of Grabs' best friends. When he managed to finally look at Joy, she caught his glance and he quickly averted his dark brown eyes. "It's doin' good Craps. You guys quittin'?" Grabs asked quickly. Craps nodded and put his arm around Joy. "Yeah, me an' Joy gotta shove off. We's got a craps game at 'bout eight tenight." Craps said as he began to walk off. Grabs looked after Joy longingly as he said good-bye and watched her till she was out of sight.   
  
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	3. Cowboy, Gains, and Losses

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"Okay! Next." Racetrack ducked behind the counter of the Distribution Center momentarily to grab some more papers and was startled when he stood back up. Then he grinned at the face behind the bars. "Sorry Cowboy. Cain't sell nobody papes ova thoity." He grinned. Jack rolled his brown eyes and ran a few fingers through his hair. "Dats good Race, dats good. Okay kid, tell him what ya want." Jack said, looking down. Then he stooped and when he stood back up, he held a little boy in his arms, who stared at Racetrack expectantly. His little forehead furrowed as he tried to see from under his black cowboy hat. Finally he took it off, exposing his sparkling brown eyes and straight brown-red hair.  
  
Racetrack looked at Jack and grinned, leaning over nearer to the little boy. "So whaddya want Dodger? Twenty? Ten?" The boy's head shot up. "No way! I kin sell more dan a misreable ten! Gimme seventy papes!" He said, slapping his money down on the counter. Racetrack grinned and brought up the papers, sliding them to the little boy on the other side. Dodger looked up at Jack and grinned. "Watch Papa! I'll sell 'em all! In an hour maybe even!" He said excitedly. Jack grinned and set him down. "You do dat. Go on dat corna an' make yer Papa proud." He said, watching his son walk off. "I will Papa! Fire in Brooklyn! Whole town destroyed!" He yelled out, slapping his cowboy hat on his head. Jack grinned and leaned up against the desk.   
  
"So Race did ya miss me? Did ya miss me?" He asked, his eyes sparkling. Racetrack rolled his eyes and smacked his arm playfully. "Yeah I missed ya Cowboy. He looks like he's a natural." He said, looking after Dodger. Jack smiled and looked at him reminicently. "Reminds me of anotha kid just like him." Racetrack said. Jack smiled and looked back at him. "Let's hope he ain't jest like me. I don't want him ta hafta go through da hell I got put through." Jack said firmly. Racetrack smiled. "So how's Rose doin'?" Racetrack asked.   
  
Jack smiled at the mention of his obviously Irish bride. She was fair, freckled, and red haired with a temper to match. A girl who one day wished that women would be treated equal like men, a girl with big hopes and dreams that one day she wouldn't have to work in the horrid sweat shop any longer. When she met Jack, he had seen these qualities quickly. He had accidentally said something about women not being the same as men, and she had stormed back at him angrily that she thought women could do anything men could do, maybe more. He had stared after her angry form as she stormed away from him in astonished silence. He had never seen a girl like her. He surprised her by arriving at the sweat shop the next day to walk her home. She refused, but he hung around, gradually gaining her confidence, and she gradually gaining his.   
  
He told her everything, about who he really was, what he had done. Jack figured he might as well get it all out in the open then and there. How she would react would depend if she would stick around. Surprisingly she took it very smoothly. "So what? Me Papa was a thief an' so'm I. I don't care. I gotta eat somehow. If da stupid people would pay us more money I wouldn't hafta. I'm sure I've committed more sins dan you Jack Kelly, even if dats not yer real name. Sullivan or Kelly, don't matta. I don't care." She said quickly. Jack knew then that she was the only one that he could really appreciate. She believed in him, believed in his dreams. Someday when their kids were grown, they were both going to go to Santa Fe. Just they two, and they would proudly watch the sun rise.  
  
"She's good Race. Jest great." Jack said with a smile. "Uh-huh. An' jest as opinionated as eva?" Racetrack asked, a gleam in his eye. Frankly Racetrack thought Rose somewhat humorous with her opinionated ways. Whenever she was around he would purposely bait her to get her going, much to Jack and Bright Eyes' dismay, for it would be THEM who would have to listen to her preach all night. Jack rolled his eyes and nodded. "Well where's da rest of yer kids? Dey sick or sometin'?" Racetrack asked. Jack sighed. "Yeah actually. Memory's got some kinda cold and Rose jest wants ta keep Falcon an' Rain wid her." Racetrack nodded. Memory Kelly's name was the only really outlandish sounding of the whole Kelly clan. Rose had insisted on giving at least one of her children their Newsie name. Memory had been the one. She chose Memory for her own reasons, but Jack believed it was because Rose had so many memories and it was her strict gospel that memories, good and bad should be cherished. Memory was imaginative and flighty, a mixture of both father and mother. Her bright red hair was most distinctive, and her orange freckles stood out against her fair, almost white skin. Memory was six, her brother Dodger eight.   
  
Falcon Kelly was a piece of work, the most like his father to the fullest. He didn't really look like his father, having a sort of copper sheen of hair, his eyes being green. But he was the most cocky. Even at four he was convinced that he could sell even more papes than his oldest brother. What was strange is that he did. He was cocky, street-smart, and a favorite with his father, even though his mother tried not to let Jack encourage him too much. But Jack couldn't help it. He couldn't help encouraging his son to be the toughest and to make others look up to him. It was like looking at a picture of himself, a greatly altered picture, but him none-the-less.  
  
Rain Kelly was only two years old. Her real name was Raindrop, but Rain suited her better. A little name for a little girl, as Jack often said with a smile. It was true. Rain was as small as her name implied. She was a tiny, lithe thing, with bright, curious blue-green eyes. Her hair was brown with a golden sheen that showed itself in the brightest sunlight. She had been born during one of the largest rain storms in Manhattan's history. Poor Rose was fitful all during the day till she finally consented Jack's requests to go lay down on the bed and let him get someone to help her. She was sure that Rain wouldn't come, but before the clouds cleared, a small raindrop was born into the Kelly family. Rain was a curious child, getting into almost everything. Jack, Rose and the children had to be careful with what they left laying about, because sure as the sun Rain would go and pick it up, put it in her mouth, chew on it, then run to her father and ask him what it was.   
  
"Well tell Rose an' da kids hey from me." Racetrack said with a smile. Jack grinned and straightened. "I will. How's Bright doin'?" Jack asked in almost a whisper, knowing that Bright Eyes was just around the corner, putting papers in order. Racetrack winced and leaned closer to Jack. "Okay. It's been hard. Losin' da baby an' all. But she's gettin' betta. Betta dan she was. Da doc said she coulda died Jack. She was jest bleedin' so much." Racetrack whispered painfully. Jack nodded solemnly. "It's okay. She's strong. An' plus she's got you." Jack said meaningfully, nudging Racetrack with a wink. Racetrack smiled wanly. "Yeah. It's jest been hard, ya know." Jack nodded and straightened as quick footsteps sounded in the backround.   
  
"Race, I got dese papes an', oh heya Cowboy! Aincha a little old ta be buyin' papes?" Bright Eyes turned the corner and greeted Cowboy with a tired smile. Jack could tell that within the few weeks since the miscarriage of her baby boy, Bright Eyes had aged. She seemed more tired, dark circles underlining her blue eyes, her smile not nearly so bright and warm. She seemed to really look her age. Jack shook his head with a smile, hiding his sad feelings for Bright Eyes. He knew she wouldn't want him bringing it up. He knew she didn't like people feeling sorry for her. She would just rather get through it herself and be done with it, but Jack knew that she couldn't do it alone this time.   
  
She needs Race more dan eva. Jack thought silently.   
  
"Yeah I guess. Just thought I'd try ta sneak some from dis here guy, but he wouldn't have none of it." Jack said, smiling at Racetrack. Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and set the papers behind the counter. "Okay, well you betta watch out. Ya cain't git nothin' past dis guy." She said, smiling at Racetrack. Before she left, Racetrack leaned over and kissed her cheek. She blushed and walked quickly out of the room, but not before smiling at him gratefully. As Racetrack walked her solemnly as she walked away, Jack said quietly, "It'll be okay Race. She jest needs ya alot." Racetrack closed his eyes. "I know."  
  



	4. Revenge

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He grinned and ran his fingers through his jet black tresses, his crystal blue eyes gleaming as the orange flames danced before his eyes. The building began to burn and slowly the smoke began to float up the sides, surrounding it in it's wispy shroud. It didn't matter what he was doing. He knew this was one of those guys' former hide-outs, and anyway, it didn't bother him that he was burning it down. It was abandoned after all. The people of Manhattan and all the other districts would just have to wait for some more action. He would show them. He would have his revenge. One of his followers approached him in a silent tread. "It's all done." He nodded. He would have his revenge.  
  
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	5. Spot Conlon

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Sunshine and Angel Higgins walked next to each other side by side, their heads down and their hands in their pockets. They had finished selling their papers and were now just walking, letting their tired legs take them wherever they wished. They were both of an average height, not very tall, considering their parentage. They both walked with the same stride and fluid motions, but when they lifted their eyes to the sun, the rays bounced off light brown eyes and dark blue ones. "So, you have a good day Sunny?" Angel asked quietly. Her sister nodded and stared at the ground. Angel sighed and kicked a rock. It seemed her sister was becoming more impossible to talk to with each passing day. Mama said it was because she was growing up and she needed more privacy, but Angel knew that already. Heck, she was growing up at the same time her twin was and SHE didn't have this problem of not being able to speak! It was aggravating for the outgoing Angel to deal with her now silenced twin.   
  
"I know ya like Sketch okay, so you kin tawk alright." She said in an aggravated tone. Sunshine's head shot up and to Angel's surprise her twin's eyes were wide. "Ya, ya do?" She said finally. Angel gave an exasperated laugh. "Yes of course! Da way ya fawn ova him all da time! It was obvious!" Angel laughed. Sunshine blushed and smacked her sister playfully. "I do not FAWN Angel! An' ya know it!" She protested. "Oh yeah? I tink ya fawn!" Angel said with a smile, rejoicing in her twin's company. But suddenly Sunshine's laugh was cut short as a figure came running up to them. Angel rolled her eyes. "Well speak of da devil." She muttered as Sketch Conlon ran up to them.   
  
"Listen goils, you gotta git outta dis here area!" He said and to Angel's surprise, his tone was agitated and his gaze worried. He grabbed the two girls' arms and began to lead them into an alleyway, not noticing Sunshine's obvious awkward glance. As soon as they were in the alley, Angel jerked her arm out of his grasp. "Okay Conlon, what's goin' on?" She asked. Sketch leaned up against the wall and threw his hands in the air. "I don't even know. It's crazy. Jade said ta me dere's a fire an' she took off afta da guys dat done it. I was jest savin' you an' yer sista's necks Higgins." He said. "I kin save our necks meself, tank ya kindly. So who done it?" Angel asked. "Don't know. Some buncha kids I tink. Jade didn't tell me. Jest tol' me she was goin' afta da guys dat did it. Dey boined one of dem empty warehouses where Osca Delancy's gang usta meet. Dunno why, but it probably gots some significance." Sketch said, shrugging.   
  
Angel nodded contemplatively. "Do you think they'll do more of this? Whoeva did dis?" Angel looked at her twin, surprised to hear her small voice speaking to Sketch. She was surprised to see Sketch's tough face visibly soften as he looked at Sunshine. "I dunno Sunny. I hope not. An' if dey do, I'll go afta 'em. You kin count on me Sunny." He said gently. For some strange reason as Angel looked back and forth from her sister's blushing face to the boy's gentle one, a fierce burning fired up in her chest and she spoke quickly. "Yeah well I kin help too. Me an' my bruddas." She cut in. Sketch's face again became a mask of toughness. "Yeah I was countin' on dat." He said quickly, looking away from Sunshine. Again, the fire burned in Angel's chest even though she had no idea why.   
  
Just then a figure ducked into the alley and in the dim light Angel could make out the blonde tresses of Jade Conlon. Jade waved in greeting and turned to her brother. "Look, we gotta find Papa an' tell him what's goin' on. It's weird." She said. Sketch nodded and motioned to the girls. They followed the twins out of the alley and into the heart of Brooklyn. They finally made it and made their way to the docks where the sounds of men laughing and joking were heard. They made their way through a small crowd of the next generation of Brooklyn newsboys to the end of the wharf. Grown men stood there with hammers in their hands, their bare chests dripping with perspiration as they loaded the crates on the wharf. The four made their way to the center of the group where the main laughing and joking was occuring.   
  
There in the center was a man of average height, a proud face, laughing eyes and mouth, and blonde hair bleached by the sun. His laughing gray-blue eyes moved away from his collegues and focused on them as they approached. He smiled and leaned on a few crates, dismissing his crew with a wave of his hand. "Heya. Whaddya doin' here? Ain't ya supposed ta be sellin'?" He asked with a smile. Sketch grinned. "Papa you know betta dan anyone dat da mawnin' papes is done now." He said. Spot Conlon grinned and leaned back on the crates. "Yer right. Jest testin' ya. Heya Sunny, Angel. How's yer Papa holdin' out in da Office?" He asked. "Jest great Spot. Da boys is still carryin' da banna an' still buyin' papes." Angel spoke up quickly, knowing her twin would rather not do the honors.   
  
Spot's eyes softened. "How's yer Mama doin'?" The sparkle in Angel's eyes dampened somewhat and she hesitated. "Okay. She's betta dan she was a few weeks ago." Spot nodded, not speaking, knowing the pain that both Racetrack and Bright Eyes were feeling. He too had lost a child. Three in fact. After Sketch and Jade had been born, he and his wife Blue had tried to have another child. She became pregnant not long after but lost the baby in her tenth week of pregnancy. In another year Blue became pregnant again but lost the baby in her third week. Two years later, Blue and Spot were thrilled to find out that she was pregnant once more. This time three weeks past, then ten, and as she quickly approached her due date, Blue and Spot both became excited for the coming birth. But when the baby was delivered, a little boy with a full head of blonde hair, was stillborn. Spot had walked out of the room after comforting Blue, his face a mask of seriousness. But when he walked out to the old familiar wharf, he sat down on the edge of the dock, his head in his hands, trying to keep the tears back. He knew the awful feeling Bright Eyes must have felt as she saw the woman attending her lift up her own little boy, his head of black hair unmoving, his perfect mouth and lips silent and blue. He knew her pain.   
  
Spot shook his head as if trying to shake off the pain that had followed him all those years and smiled faintly. "Well tell her dat Spot is still thinkin' 'bout her. An' I'll come an' visit her eventually." He said firmly. Angel nodded. "Sure Spot." Jade stepped forward. "Papa, did ya hear 'bout da fire downtown?" She asked. Spot nodded. "Yeah I heaid of it. One of da udda guys' kids came down an' told us. Why? Was you down dere or sometin'?" Spot asked, his eyes narrowing. Jade shuffled her feet before looking up. "Maybe." She said, sounding more like she was asking her father than telling him. Spot slapped his hand on his forehead. "Maybe? Geez Jade! How many times do I hafta tell ya not ta folla crooks 'round here! Huh? Dey could hoit ya." He said, exasperated. "Yeah but Papa, Mama tol' us dat you folla'ed too many crooks fer yer own good. Even chased down some guy who beat her up in Queens. Some guy named Cape." Sketch pointed out. Spot blushed momentarily. "Dat was different." He muttered.   
  
"Papa, dis is different. I didn't git a good look at 'em, but dey looked like kids dat done it." Jade said quickly. The whole company looked at her in shock. "Kids? Why would kids be boinin' down buildin's?" Angel asked in bewilderment. Jade shrugged. "Dunno. It's all very strange dough." She replied. "Well you keep away from 'em." Spot started. Jade groaned. "Unless dey come ta you. Den ya got me permission ta chase 'em down. But don't try ta stop 'em, jest folla 'em 'an see where dey're hidin' out an' who dey are. No more'n dat. An' don't tell yer Mama I gave ya permission." Spot said, turning back to his work after winking at his children.   
  
"Papa! Papa! We need help! Papa!" Spot whirled around quickly to face the small tinny yells coming down the wharf. Three children were running head on down the dock, all three of them with mops of bleach blonde hair. The one who looked older than the other two was holding the hand of the younger, and the younger was holding the hand of the youngest. They were running so fast that one would have thought that they would run straight off the dock if Spot hadn't stopped them with his strong hands. "What's goin' on? Whaddya doin' down here?" Spot asked, kneeling down on the dock. "Hey Conlon! We're neva gonna git done if yer kids keep showin' up!" A man yelled. "Ah shudup!" The younger boy yelled in the man's direction, causing the wharf to break out in laughter. Spot waved his hand and looked back at the children.   
  
The oldest one was about nine, with very fair hair, a lighter blonde than the rest, gray-green eyes and a soft feminine face. His father looked at him gently as he waited for the reason for the interruption. "What's goin' on Marbles? Yer Mama need sometin'?" He asked gently. The younger one, age eight, spoke up quickly. "Yeah sometin' like dat! Trouble done ran off again." He said. This boy had brown-blonde hair and pure gray eyes, the color of the sea after a storm. His face was proud and his arms were crossed protectively across his chest. The younger boy merely looked at his two brothers with his big green eyes, brushed a strand of blonde hair out of his tanned face and fingered his small slingshot. Spot looked at the younger boy. "Whaddya mean Trouble ran off? I thought you was supposed ta be watchin' him teday." Spot said. Marbles threw his hands in the air. "He WAS! But he was playin' wit' his slingshot an' didn't even notice till he was done gone!" Marbles said frantically. "Now cool off Marbles. Flames, why didn't ya do yer job? I tol' ya specifically 'fore I left fer woik teday ta watch Trouble." Spot said gently, but firmly.   
  
Flames rolled his gray eyes and sighed. "I tried Papa. But ya know how Trouble is." He said. "Yeah, we do. But we also know dat ya don't watch him as careful as you should." The youngest boy said simply. Flames looked down at him angrily, as if he wanted to tear the slingshot out of his brother's hand and use it on it's owner. Spot looked down at the littlest boy. "Dat's enough Mouse. Keep it down." Spot said firmly to the six year old. "You boys gotta find him. Where's Ace?" Spot asked, implying his five year old son. "He's at home wit' Mama an' Gabriel. She wanted us ta git ya." Mouse said calmly. "Well you boys gotta find him. Seich 'round da docks an' stuff. An' da boundary to Manhattan. Dats where he was yestaday. Jade an' Sketch'll help ya." Spot said, standing up. Jade sighed. "I wish dat Trouble would stop wandrin' off." She said. "Don't we all, but he's only three an' don't know betta." Spot replied. "Oh he knows betta. He just pretends like he don't." Sketch said, exasperated as he took Mouse's hand and began walking off. Angel and Sunshine followed them, willing to take a little adventure in looking for the second youngest Conlon child, knowing full well that their friends would need all the help they could get in finding him.   
  
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	6. Finding Trouble

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The children wandered through Brooklyn calling and yelling the younger Conlon's name. There was no answer to their calls. They really didn't expect one. Trouble Conlon loved to play what he called, 'hidin' an' seekin''. Only it wasn't in a restriscted area. All of New York was his playground. The little imp was well-known among the nearest districts to Brooklyn. Elderly men sitting around a boxing ring would laugh and give him a pretzel before he dashed off again. Then when his siblings came around, the same men would tell them where they saw him run off to.   
  
Jade frowned as she called her brother's name again. "C'mon. Let's try dis way." She said, turning back to downtown Brooklyn. "Jade are ya crazy? Whaddya doin'? Trouble probably hightailed it fer Manhattan. Da UDDA way." Sketch insisted. "I dunno, it's weird. I gots a funny feelin' dat he's down here somewheres." She said, walking away insistantly. Sketch sighed and threw his hands in the air, motioning to his younger brothers and winking at Angel and Sunshine. The younger boys' eyes widened as they saw the smoke from the fire in the building rise up in front of them. "Whoa!! Who done dat?" Flames muttered. "Obviously some bad people." Mouse said quietly. "You got dat right Mouse. Sheesh. Why would dey wanna boin dis ol' dump?" Marbles murmured. "I dunno. But I have a feelin' dat our culprit's around here somewhere's. Hey! Listen." Jade cocked her head and Sketch frowned. Amidst the hubub surrounding the fire, a tinny voice came to their ears. "Fire! Fire! Loverly fire! Wow it's big! I wonda if it goes ta heaven? Oh well! Fire! Fire! Loverly fire!" Jade rolled her eyes as she heard the sing-song voice and the group made their way towards the sound.   
  
Seated in the grass not far away from the burning building was a little boy, kicking his feet contentedly, one hand planted in the grass, the other clutching some dandilions in his sweaty, chubby palm. He turned his blonde head as the group approached and he jumped up with a grin. "Jade! You win hidin' an' seekin'! Lets play again! I'm da hida!" He made a move to dash off again, but Sketch caught him by the seat of his pants and pulled him back by his suspenders, lifting him up in the air so that Jade could see him face to face. "Listen ta me Trouble. Don't, eva, do dis, again! You undastan' me? Yer too little ta be runnin' off! 'Specially at fires! Fire kin hoit ya bad! You undastan'?" Trouble's small forehead furrowed, then he grinned. "Oh I wouldn't have gotten hoit! Da boys made sure dat I stayed outta da way while dey made it. It was neat! Jade kin we have a fire at our house sometime? Do ya tink dat Papa would make one?" Jade's back straightened. "No I don't tink dat Papa would make one Trouble." She said, her voice low and obviously not comprehending the question.   
  
"Trouble, what boys?" Sketch asked, twirling his brother on his suspenders to face him. "I dunno! Da boys dat made dat fire! One of 'em was tall an' he had black hairs an' I dunno what color his eyes was, but dey looked black too, an' dere was a whole bunches off boys. Kin I go home now?" Trouble pleaded. Sketch lifted him into his arms, but didn't dare to loosen his grip on his suspenders. Jade's forehead was still furrowed as the bunch began to walk off. "I guess we should be gettin' home. We'll see ya lata." Angel said, turning back towards Manhattan. Sketch nodded and waved. "We'll be seein' ya!" He said. "Tell Taps an' Ice hey!" Marbles said, as he and his brothers waved. Angel and Sunshine nodded and walked back to Manhattan.   
  
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Picks, Pockets, and Cowboy Higgins sat in the sun under the Greeley statue talking to a few other newsies who stopped by for a chat. Cowboy pulled his cowboy hat closer to his head as his brothers chattered. He was softer spoken than his brothers. It wasn't his fault. He just didn't like to talk constantly. "Well I'll be seein' ya den. Where you sellin' temorra?" Picks asked. The boy shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe on da corner of Broadway. I dunno. It all depends, but I gotta git goin' Higgins. See ya!" The boy said, walking off. "Yeah see ya North. Hey Pockets, you wanna go git sometin' at Tibbys?" Picks asked, turning to his brother with his chocolate brown eyes. Pockets frowned and crossed his arms. "I dunno. I don't really wanna do anytin'. I want some excitement." He said. "Please don't say dat." Cowboy muttered.   
  
His twin brothers looked at him sharply. "Why da heck not Cowboy? It's borin' 'round here." Pockets said, turning his liquid blue eyes to his brother. Cowboy shrugged. "It's jest wheneva one of ya's says dat, sometin' happens. Sometimes good an' sometimes bad. Most always bad dough." Cowboy explained. "Hey dat ain't fair! It ain't always bad!" Picks protested. "Most times." Cowboy retorted. Picks began to protest, but Pockets smacked him. "He does got a point." He said. Picks rolled his eyes. "Yer jest no fun Cowboy." Cowboy shrugged. It wasn't anything personal. He just didn't like his brothers' ideas of fun. "Aw, leave Cowboy alone Picks." Pockets protested. "Pockets! Picks! Cowboy! Don't move!" The three boys turned slowly to face their younger sisters as Sunshine and Angel ran up. Cowboy turned to Picks. "See what did I tell ya? Da goils is gonna say dat sometin' cataclysmic happened an' we're gonna git right in da middle of it, jest like always." He commented. "Aw dry up Cowboy. Whats da problem Angel?" Picks retorted, turning to his sisters.   
  
"Somebody boined down one of Osca Delancy's hidin' places in Brooklyn!" Angel burst out. The three boys jumped to their feet. "What? Who done it?" Picks exploded. "Dunno. Some kids Jade said." Angel answered. Sunshine walked over to Cowboy and put her arm around him protectively. Only she knew how much her brother still feared Oscar Delancy. He had shot Jack Kelly right in front of him when he was only a child and he still felt responsible for the coin sized scars on his idol's shoulder and chest. "Anybody get hoit?" Pockets asked. Angel shook her head. "Nope. It's abandoned now. You know dat. Da question is, what are we gonna do 'bout it?" Angel asked.   
  
"Nothin'." The siblings turned to face their brother Cowboy's pale face. "It ain't our business. Let whoeva done it deal wit' demselves an' we'll take care of ourselves." Angel pouted. "C'mon Cowboy, we gotta do sometin'." Cowboy wriggled out of Sunshine's grasp and walked over to his sister slowly. "We ain't gonna do nothin' Angel. It ain't even our district. Let Brooklyn handle it. You got dat?" He asked slowly, but firmly. Angel glared at him, but said no more. His siblings looked at him solemnly, heeding his words as he walked off, Sunshine following him. Even though he was younger than Picks and Pockets, they still listened to him when he meant things. He rarely spoke out, but when he did, he got all of his siblings' attention. All of them. And they heeded his words.   
  
"Hey Cowboy. You okay?" Sunshine asked, following Cowboy's slumped form. He turned around to face her and Sunshine's forehead furrowed as she took in his tired form. "Yeah I'm okay Sunny. You kin go on home if ya want." He said quietly. She shook her head and placed her hand in his as they walked on. Cowboy sighed and gripped his sister's hand. They had always been close. They felt the same and acted the same. Both were dreamy and soft-spoken, not speaking their minds unless they felt it was completely necessary. They were kindred spirits. "I know how ya feel 'bout Osca Cowboy, but ya shouldn't let him haunt ya like dis." Sunshine said quietly.   
  
Cowboy dropped his head. "I know. But, I cain't help it." He murmured. Sunshine nodded. "I know. But Cowboy, dere ain't nothin' ta be afraid of. He's been gone fer ages. He ain't neva come back." She said calmly. "I know, but dis feelin' in da back of my head says dat he's jest around da corner wit' his gun. His kid's dere too. Both of 'em, waitin', watchin'. I cain't help it Sunny." He murmured. "Look Cowboy, if dey was gonna stalk anybody, anybody at all it would be Grabs. Afta all he was da one dat wrecked his plans, not you. It'll be okay. Jest let it rest." Sunshine said urgently. Cowboy turned to her, his brown eyes tired. "I cain't help it." He whispered softly.   
  
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	7. Taps & Ice

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He crept around the corner, pushing his blonde hair out of his blue eyes. He frowned and crouched on the ground, thinking. "Sometin' ain't right." He whispered to himself. But as he prepared to go farther, he jumped at the sound of a second voice. "Whatcha doin' Taps? Huh?" He groaned and turned around. She stood in the entrance of the alleyway, her hands dirty from the ink of the papers, her blue eyes sparkling. "Nothin' Ice! Now go 'way." He said, turning away from her. Ice frowned and crept up to where he was. "Are ya huntin' robbers like Grabs did when HE was little?" She whispered. Taps rolled his eyes and turned back to her. "No. I'm jest lookin' around okay. Nothin' ta worry 'bout." He said. He was about to walk away from her, but her voice stopped him. "But jest a minute ago you said dat sometin' wasn't right." He turned back to her. "How long was you dere?" He demanded. She furrowed her forehead and placed her tiny grubby finger to her face. "Umm, da whole time! I was followin' ya!" She said happily.   
  
Taps rolled his eyes. "Figures." He muttered. "I wanna go wit' ya Taps! Where ya goin'? Is ya goin' ta Brooklyn? It shore looks like it cuz da Brooklyn Bridge is jest up da road. Is you gonna go see Spot? If so I wanna go. I," Taps placed his hand over his little sister's mouth. "Look Ice, if yer gonna come, ya gotta keep quiet!" He took his hand off of her mouth and she sighed dismally. "Taps, you know dat I don't like bein' quiet." She mourned. "Well if yer comin' ya gotta keep yer trap shut. Undastan'?" He asked. She sighed and nodded. "Okay. Den lets go." He stood up and walked out in the open towards the Brooklyn Bridge. "Is ya goin' ta Brooklyn?" Ice asked quietly. Taps groaned and turned around. She threw her hands out in front of her. "What? I jest asked! If I'm goin' I might as well know where!" She protested, pushing a blonde curl out of her face.   
  
"If ya MUST know, yes, I'm goin' ta Brooklyn." Taps said as he walked off. Ice ran to catch up with him and took her hand in his. "Why?" She asked. " 'Cause I have a feelin' dat sometin's goin' on dere. It's been quiet. Too quiet." He explained. "Oh. You know what Taps?" Ice asked. "I know dat you ain't doin' a good job at bein' quiet." He said, looking down at her. She looked at him sadly and he sighed and smiled. "Well I tink dat yer da neatest big brudder dat dere eva was! I don't know nobody who kin sense stuff like you can! Maybe Spot Conlon, but nobody else Taps! Yer da greatest!" She said proudly, looking up into her big brother's face. He smiled and stifled a pleased chuckle. "Well dats good Ice. Dats real good. Ya need ta woik on keepin' quiet dough." He said with a smile. Ice placed her hand over her mouth. "I won't say anudda woid till we git dere." She vowed. This time Taps did laugh. "Yeah right." He said. "I will!" She protested. "Uh-huh, sure Ice." He laughed as she protested further.   
  
Taps cocked his head slightly, then whirled around and pulled Ice off to the side of the road. She looked at him questioningly, but her little mouth became o-shaped as a fire carriage whizzed past them. Taps grabbed his little sister's hand and jerked her along as they followed the carriage. It stopped in front of the burning building in downtown Brooklyn. There was a crowd of people around, watching with wide eyes. Taps kept his firm grip on Ice's hand and made his way to the front. The crowds cheered as the firemen dropped water on the flames, but groaned as the flames grew higher. "Look at it Taps! It's awful! Who did dat?" Ice asked, tugging on her brother's hand. He shook his head. "I got no idea Ice." He murmured. "Hey Slingshot!" Taps turned around to face a smiling red-haired youth. His name was Art, a well known figure around Brooklyn. The twenty-five year old was still working around Brooklyn, not as a Newsie as he had been formerly as a boy, but as a blacksmith. His father was Red, Spot Conlon's companion when he had been the leader of Brooklyn. Red and Spot still remained close and Art remained close to the Higgins family, having been essential in part of Grabs' plot to bring down Oscar Delancy.   
  
Taps grinned at his nick-name. Spot had given it to him when he was only a baby, convinced that he would teach him all there was to know about his preferred weapon. Taps had lived up to Spot's expectations and he was not known as Taps in Brooklyn. In Brooklyn he was known as Slingshot. "Okay. Dis is a mess here huh?" He said. "Yeah it is. Don't know why anyone would wanna boin down dat wreck dough. Not like it's got any importance to da city or nothin'." Art said, after patting Ice on the head. "I know. It's strange. I jest thought dat sometin' was goin' on teday an' look here whats happenin'." Taps said, pointing to the fire consumed building. "Taps kin feel stuff in da air when tings happen Art! Kin you do dat? Kin Spot Conlon do dat? I cain't do dat. Kin yer Papa do dat Art?" Ice babbled. Art grinned and hoisted the little girl in his arms. "Well I cain't say dat I kin Ice. Yer brudda's special ain't he?" Art asked, winking at Taps. "He shore is Art! An' he's MY brudda!" She said proudly.   
  
"I guess we best be gittin' home Art. Mama'll want us ta be home at a suitable hour. She don't like me an' Ice deliverin' da evenin' edition." Taps said. Art smiled and placed Ice on the ground after delivering a small kiss on her rosy cheek. "Okay. You git goin' den. Take care Slingshot!" Art said, making his way out of the crowds. Taps sighed and took Ice's hand, but not after taking one final glance at the burning building and frowning. "Why would someone wanna boin down dat ol' wreck?" He muttered to himself as he made his way out of the crowds.   
  
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	8. Reminicing

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The nine Higgins children met as they usually did at the Greeley statue and walked home from there. A regular passer-by would know that if they saw the long line of children trudging slowly to the west side of Manhattan, they knew that the days work was done. In a few more hours the evening edition would be set out among the public to be distributed by the Newsies, but this was an act that the Higgins children didn't participate in. Any other parent would insist that their children work the late hours, but the Higgins' weren't any other parent. They figured that if the city could have their children for half the day, they at least should have some part of their children's time just to watch them grow. It was an amusing sight, the nine Higgins children lined up usually in order of their birth, walking home slowly, discussing their day among each other.   
  
They walked into the old building where they shared half the house with another family and breathed in the scent of the food that their mother was cooking. "Heya kids. C'mon an' sit down. Grub's almost done." Bright Eyes said, her back turned from them as she stirred the soup. The children all sat down and after prayers, ate their food slowly and surely, talking to their parents. "Hey Mama! I saw a fire teday!" Ice said excitedly. Bright Eyes looked up sharply. Racetrack eyed her then looked at Taps, who was looking deeply into the soup bowl at the moment. "Taps." Racetrack said quietly. Taps looked up hesitantly and threw his hands in the air. "Okay! I confess! I was at da fire in Brooklyn wit' Ice. I didn't let go of her hand an' we didn't go too close. An' plus, Art was dere watchin'." Taps said quickly. Bright Eyes nodded, but Racetrack looked around the table.   
  
"Who else was dere?" He asked, a twinkle in his eye, knowing that at least a couple of his children had to have been at the scene. Angel and Sunshine hesitantly raised their hands, then fell back to eating their soup. "It's okay. Jade an' Sketch were dere." Angel said. Racetrack smiled faintly and turned to Bright Eyes. A twinkle was in her eye, but she didn't smile. "Mama, we was careful. We had ta go anyway. We was lookin' fer Trouble." Angel protested. Racetrack laughed suddenly and practically choked on his food. Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and smacked him. "Trouble Conlon, or trouble trouble?" Bright Eyes asked, finally cracking a smile. Angel sighed as she watched her father laughing into his hands. "Trouble CONLON. He was lost an' we found him at da fire. He was okay." She explained. Racetrack finally ceased laughing, but one look at his wife's face set him off again. Then Grabs began to chuckle, followed by Picks and Pockets, then Cowboy began to laugh, then Taps, finally the whole company of Higgins' began to laugh loudly.   
  
After dinner, Angel helped her mother wash the dishes while the other children either played or talked. "Mama, Sunshine tawked a little more teday. I tol' her dat a knew 'bout her an' Sketch." Bright Eyes smiled. "Well dats good news. Jest give her time Angel. She'll come around." She said quietly. "Yeah well dats da udda ting. I tink dat Sketch likes HER." Angel said quickly and with an edge that made Bright Eyes do more than glance at her daughter. "Is dat a bad ting?" Bright Eyes asked quietly. "Yeah, no, I dunno. It's jest strange." Angel said, plunking a dish vigorously under the water. "I know it's strange when ya tink dat yer friend or sista in yer case is fallin' in love. I know it was awkward fer me da way yer Papa would tease me 'bout da goils he'd floit wit'." Bright Eyes said, a far away look in her eye.   
  
Angel smiled and faced Bright Eyes. "Papa floited wit' udda goils besides you? I tought you was da only goil he eva loved." She said. "Well I was, I hope. But at da time he liked ta tease me, see what I would do, how I would react. I tried me best, but usually toined really red, so he could tell dat I was mad." Bright Eyes chuckled. Angel smiled and handed her mother another dish. "Well I don't like Sketch. I jest feel," She stopped as she searched for the words. "Left out?" Bright Eyes put in. Angel glanced up at her mother. "Yeah I tink dats it. I mean, we've always done stuff tegedda. As a team. But it's like she's someplace dat I cain't be. Ya know?" Bright Eyes nodded as she dried another dish. "Yeah I do. Felt dat way more dan once." She murmured. "I'll try not ta worry 'bout it, but it's hard." Angel said. "You do dat. Don't worry 'bout it. Let it all play out." Bright Eyes advised.   
  
Angel nodded, then suddenly put her soapy hand up to her face in recollection. "Oh Mama! I 'most fergot. Spot said ta tell ya dat he was tinkin' of ya an' he'd come ta see ya soon." Bright Eyes smiled and nodded. "Thanks Angel. Dat'll be nice." She said quietly, a smile still on her lips. "Mama, how well does ya know Spot?" Bright Eyes chuckled. "I knew him since he was a kid. Before he was da leada of Brooklyn." She said proudly. Angel stared at her mother. "Really? Den you knew him 'fore he knew Blue?" Angel asked, referring to Spot's wife. "Oh yeah. We was partners. I lived in Brooklyn 'fore I lived in Manhattan. An' even when I did go ta Manhattan, I'd still go back an' forth. We go way back, Spot an' me." Bright Eyes said, a reminicent look on her face.   
  
Angel glanced at her mother before speaking again, this time in softer tones. "Did ya, did ya eva love him?" She asked. Bright Eyes looked over at her daughter, her eyes wide. "Well I," She started, then her face relaxed. "Yeah meybe at one point in time I loved him." She said quietly. "You did? Why didn't you get tegedda? I mean, did he not love you or sometin'?" Angel asked. "Oh Angel." Bright Eyes said in a sigh. "Please Mama. I wanna know. It'll help me undastan' dis ting wit' Sunny betta." Angel pleaded. "I dunno if it'll do dat." Bright Eyes remarked. "Well, we didn't see eye ta eye on some stuff. We was partners yeah, an' tegedda we made a poifect team, but as ta lovin' each udda, well, it didn't always woik out. I guess it was my fault." Bright Eyes said. "Yer fault? What did ya do?" Angel asked.   
  
"Well, I loved him, but at times he seemed too full of himself, too confident dat he could have any goil he chose, even me. I wasn't 'bout ta let him have dat powa ova me. Dat was one facta. Anudda was dat we jest weren't right fer each udda. We would git in some of da awfulest fights." Bright Eyes said with a smile. "An' I tol' him dat we couldn't woik out. Afta dat he moped 'round so much, an' I jest couldn't take him actin' dat way. So I left." She said with a shrug. "You left Brooklyn 'cause you an' Spot didn't git tegedda?" Angel said, her voice echoing her surprise. "Yeah, funny huh? Good ting I did too. Uddawise you wouldn't be here." Bright Eyes said, fondly caressing her daughter's wild curls. Angel stared at her in surprise, then turned back to the dishes in almost a daze. "Whoa. I didn't tink, whoa." She murmured. "It ain't a well known fact, so I'd 'preciate if ya didn't spread it 'round." Bright Eyes warned.   
  
Angel nodded, then turned back to her. "Does Papa know?" Bright Eyes paused momentarily. "No. He don't know. I neva told nobody. Spot was jest gainin' powa an' I didn't wanna endanga dat. An' plus at 'bout dat time I could tell dat he was sweet on Blue." Bright Eyes said. "But Mama, Blue an' Spot fight all da time. But dey're married." Angel pointed out. "Yeah, but dey's poifect. Dey're so alike dat dey woik good tegedda. Plus Blue kin control Spot. She don't have no sympathy fer him when he don't git his own way. Dats one ting dat I couldn't do. I let him have his own way in most tings 'cause I couldn't stand ta see him hoit. Blue on da udda hand." Bright Eyes laughed. "You see Angel, it all woiks out fer da best. Spot's got Blue. I've got yer Papa. It all woiks out accordin' ta plan. An' I couldn't be more happier." Bright Eyes said with a smile. Angel grinned and gave her mother a quick hug. "I'm glad dat I'm you an' Papa's dawta." She whispered. "Me too baby. Me too." Bright Eyes whispered as she pressed her daughter close to her. "Hey if you goils eva git done in dere, we kin play some cawds!" Racetrack called from the next room. Bright Eyes and Angel looked at each other and laughed hard. "An' why would I wanna miss dis?" Bright Eyes laughed.   
  
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	9. Hiding Humanity

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He collapsed in the dark alley, using his coat to lay on, the only shield between his thin body and the freezing concrete bricks. He looked off to the side. The first watch was assembling, sitting up against walls, standing looking off into the distance, whatever was comfortable for them. All that mattered was that they were keeping watch. He sighed and closed his eyes, slowly wrapping his arms around himself and rubbing his shoulders to keep some warmth in. It got cold in the evenings and it was the only thing he couldn't keep out. But he still enjoyed the night. In a few hours he would take over the watch. Then he could do whatever he pleased until the next watch relieved him.   
  
During the night, he was hidden in the shadows, free to be whatever he pleased. In the daytime he didn't have that luxury. The shadows were dim and not easy to hide in. The sun always seemed to try to find him, but he wouldn't let himself be found. He was an ally with the darkness, a friend of the soft-shining moon. The sun was his enemy, for in the sunlight, he was exposed. He had to hide who he truly was to survive in the daytime, but during the night. During the night he could be whoever he wanted to be. He could relive his memories as he kept a close watch around him. He could be the little boy he once was in his memories. He could be the gentle, considerate, and even, kind boy he had once been before tragedy stripped all that away to the very shell of his being. Gradually he built himself back, layer by layer, only the layers weren't the soft material that normally covered his being. This material was harder than concrete, the walls strong as steel. Pain was not a danger. Even if pain came his way, he couldn't feel it. He merely tossed his head and led his boys on. He was strong now. Yes he was. No one could strip away his humanity anymore. No one could break through those walls. No one.   
  
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	10. Clues

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Fairy Higgins shouldered her papes and walked away from the Distribution Office whistling a small tune she had made up on the spur of the moment. She watched as her siblings spread out to their respected places where they sold the most, Grabs to the corner near Tibbys, Picks and Pockets outside the horse races, Cowboy to the entrance of Central Park, Angel and Sunshine to the block away from the Brooklyn Bridge, Taps and Ice, selling anywhere in between. She sighed and called out a headline loudly, smiling endearingly as her papes were bought by her eager customers. The fire yesterday had made a good headline. Everyone wanted to know about it, wanted to find out who did it and if they would be punished. Fairy knew that the only reason they wanted to know is not because it once housed Oscar Delancy, but because it once housed the Mayor and his family. Not the Mayor in charge now, but the Mayor during the strike that her own parents had participated in.   
  
She often wondered about those years in which her Mama and Papa participated in. She wondered what it would be like to be on strike and to be soaking Newsies every day, and going to Irving Hall for a rally. She had been inside Irving Hall often, but that had been to see Medda. Medda had long since retired her singing voice and was content to set up appointments for hopeful singers. Thought it had been a while since she'd been inside, she still remembered the sparkling crystal chandeliers, the wooden banisters, their curilicues and frills glinting like gold in the lamplight, the large stage and the numerous velvet seats. Her Papa often said that the strike and the rally wasn't as glamorous as she thought, but she didn't care. It sounded intriguing to her. Although she wondered what it had really been like.   
  
It was hard for her to imagine her parents young and fighting for their rights. It was just unusual. For as long as she had known her parents, she had just known them as the quiet kind people who only fought when they had to. It was too hard to imagine that her father, who now worked in the Distribution Office had once stood outside that very office and protested the price of papes to the Distributer, a guy named Wiesel, or Weasel as her father called him. She remembered her parents talking about him. Her father would call him Weasel and her Mama would smile, but then smack him and say, "Let the poor man rest in peace." She knew that Weasel was long since dead. Mama didn't like to talk badly about the dead, even if it was Weasel.   
  
She also wondered what her parents' friends were like when they were younger, Spot, Blue, Red, Jack, Kid Blink and all the rest. She knew them all and knew their children, but she often wondered what they were like in their younger years. Was Spot like Sketch, cocky and a total flirt? Was Blue still as tough on the outside but sweet on the inside as Jade described? And the other Newsies, where they the same?   
  
Many of the original Newsies had long since passed on. Mush had packed up his family and left, eager to see other things besides the streets of New York City. Kid Blink and his wife were still around, but they had moved back to Queens, even though Craps and Joy still sold in Manhattan. Crutchy, whom Fairy had only known for a few years of her life, seven of them actually, had since died. Her father and Jack always said that he wouldn't live to an old age, and it was sort of a miracle that he had made it to twenty. Fairy smiled in rememberance at the rather old fashioned young man, whom she had called "Crunchy", mispronouncing his name completely. But Crutchy hadn't minded, in fact, he often said it was an improvement. She sighed, remembering the younger, happier times of her life.   
  
Angel turned to look at her sister. Sunshine was busy on the next corner selling papes. Angel looked into her hands at the one pape she had left. She smiled and walked quickly to Sunshine. "Hey Sunny, I'm takin' a short day okay? I'll be back." She said as she walked away briskly. "Where ya's goin' Angel?" Sunshine asked, frowning. Angel smiled as she turned around. "Dunno yet! It don't matta none! I'll be back in plenty of time Sunny! Doncha worry!" She called as her walked eased into a run. Sunshine rolled her eyes and shook her head, calling out the headlines.   
  
Angel stopped a few blocks away to look at her sister. She was still selling her papers and hadn't noticed the urgency with which she left. That was good. Now she only had to sneak onto the Brooklyn Bridge without being noticed by her sibling. She didn't want her knowing where she was going at ALL. She crept past her sister's line of vision, ignoring the stares she got from the people walking off and on the bridge. Then she gulped and ran for it, leaping onto the bridge and ducking beneath the railing. She peeked around the edge. Sunshine hadn't noticed. She was busy accepting change from a customer. Angel grinned and took a chance, running down the length of the bridge and into the Brooklyn territory.   
  
She took a deep breath and looked around. She was past the Brooklyn boundary, and now she just had to find her way back to the building. Angel figured that it wasn't still burning, but it was somewhat. It had been such a big blaze that a thin line of smoke still drifted to the sky. She frowned and began to edge up closely to the wreck, poking around in the cinders. She was wondering how they started such a blaze, and if whoever had done it had left a clue for her to follow. All too soon, she found one. Off to the side, obviously blown by the wind, was a little note, stuck in a grass patch. She picked it off and looked at it. It was the address of this house, poorly written and with many words mispelled. She frowned as she attempted to read it. It wasn't just the address, it was directions. It read:   
  
W., go dowen to Brooklin and take a write. The bulding is onli a few blox a way from it. It is big, with blu trim and wite paint. Oscar D. used to meet ther. The number is 4425. You now the stret. Hope this helps you. Keep in tech. Mikey   
  
Angel frowned as she read the letter over and over again. Who was this W. and why was he did he burn the building down? Who was Mikey and what was his connection to W.? And Oscar D.? That had to be Oscar Delancy. He was the only one with those initials that she knew had met there. How did he fit in? Oscar had long since left Manhattan, but was still causing trouble, but so what? Why would W. want to burn down a place that Oscar Delancy USED to meet in? Unless. Unless there was a personal reason behind it all. Maybe revenge? Was it one of Oscar's former gang members or something? Angel didn't know what to think. She put the note in her pocket and backed away, walking slowly into the business section of Brooklyn.   
  
She walked up to a restaurant and walked in, sat down and fingered the note again. She looked at it and laid it on the table. Obviously Mikey wasn't very well educated. He didn't know how to spell in the least. Most of it was right, but the other half wasn't. But most of all, who was W.? Her head came up out of habit as the bell on the door jingled as another customer came in. Actually, seven customers. All of them grubby boys. They sat down at a table and instantly were engrossed in conversation. Angel shrugged and looked away, fingering the note and pressing her hand to her head as she thought. She slipped it back into her pocket as she ordered, but pulled it out again as she ate. She barely tasted the savory hot dog as she eyed the note and almost didn't see anyone, so with good reason, she jumped when she was addressed by a low, male voice.   
  
"How are ya teday? Huh? Ya look like a sweet-heart." Angel looked up and saw a tall boy standing by her table, his large, dirty hand pressed on the table. He was grinning and as Angel glanced over at his table, she noticed that his friends were watching with interest, amused smiles on their faces. The stranger had big, staring blue eyes, orbs that seemed to swallow her up if she looked too long. Those eyes contrasted so sharply with his jet black hair, that Angel was temporarily taken aback. She had never seen anyone like him before. Then she shook her head, telling herself to snap out of it. Immediately she narrowed her eyes. "Dats all dat you know. Lemme tell ya one ting, I ain't no sweet-heart." She said firmly.   
  
The boy grinned and leaned down. "An' ice cream sundae says you ain't." He said. Angel faltered, but glared at him. "I don't want nothin' from you. I don't take nothin' from nobody." The boy put on a sad expression, though Angel could clearly see the laughter in his eyes. "Not even ice-cream?" He mourned. "Not even ice-cream. Now if you'll 'scuse me." She said, pushing him aside as she stood up. "Aw, you ain't gonna give me nothin'? Not even a little kiss fer da compliment?" The boy laughed. Angel frowned and turned around. "Listen buddy, you might be able ta trick udda goils wit' dat pouty 'spression, but you ain't foolin' me. You don't deseive nothin' from me, 'specially not a kiss. I don't even know you an' I don't care to. So git outta my way." She said, pushing into him again. The boys at the table, hooted and laughed at their companion. To Angel's surprise, the boy wasn't offended. He merely grinned bigger. "Don't worry 'bout it. Yer right I don't deseive nothin'. 'Specially not from an' angel like you." He grinned, winking at her as his companions howled. Angel was taken aback as he called her by her very name, but didn't say anything, just pushed out the door, leaving the boy and his laughing friends behind her.   
  
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	11. Leader of Brooklyn

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Sketch blew cigarette smoke out of his mouth thoughtfully, watching the smoke blow away in the wind. Things in Brooklyn had quieted down greatly, the talk of the fire barely remaining. He wished it could stay that way. He didn't like things in his world to be in an uproar. He liked it better if it was simple and quiet, but he knew that it couldn't stay that way forever. Besides he had more important pressing matters to think off. Mainly the idea of becoming leader of Brooklyn. Sketch didn't know what to do.   
  
He was the son of Brooklyn and everyone expected him to take over someday, but he just didn't know if that was what he wanted. He would rather not live up to everyone's expectations and simply live out his life not being so renowned as his father. He didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps. Most of his friends did, but he wasn't like them. Sketch wanted his own life, wanted to follow his own dreams. So what if he only grew up to be a blacksmith or something, but at least he would be doing what HE wanted to do. He could be a Newsie for his childhood, then find something else to do, then see how he felt from there. It was all so simple, yet so hard.   
  
He was sure about one thing though. Sunshine Higgins was the most beautiful, sweet girl he had ever met. He knew that was certain. Sketch smiled as he thought of the shy girl and her sweet, admiring ways. He didn't know how she felt. Although she was shy and most always expressed her feelings one way or another, he wasn't sure how she felt about him. That worried him, but he was sure that he could work around that. He would give her room if she wanted it. That was one difference between himself and his father. When he found that he liked a girl, he didn't immediately try to force her into anything or make her seem like she was honored merely to be in his presence. His mother had handled his father in that respect well enough, but Sketch's pride wasn't the case here. He was simple in his love, admiring and willing.   
  
After a simple glimpse of euphoria, Sketch's mind turned back to the issue of Brooklyn, much to his dismay. Fortunately he was pardoned by the arrival of his brother Flames. Flames sauntered up and spat in his hand, extending it to his brother, his gray eyes flashing proudly. Flames admired his big brother greatly, placing him on the highest level of veneration. As Sketch shook his brother's hand, the thought crossed his mind that Flames would make a better leader than he ever would. Flames was strong-willed and forceful if need be. He was firm in his small leadership among his comrades and that image stuck in Sketch's mind as he took his hand away. It wouldn't do any good. Flames was only eight years old, too young to be taking on Brooklyn all himself. His mother would probably have something to say about it as well. But then again, his father had only been eleven when HE had become leader, so Flames really wasn't that far behind.   
  
"Wassa matta Sketch?" Flames asked, interrupting Sketch's train of thought. He started a moment, then smiled. "Nothin'. Why?" Flames shrugged. "Dunno. Jest looked like you was tinkin' 'bout sometin'." Flames commented. "Well yeah, but dats okay. Whaddya want Flames?" Sketch asked, settling himself on a crate. Flames stood in front of him, his arms crossed across his chest thoughtfully. "I jest wanna know how old ya's gotta be ta rule a district?" Sketch's heart jumped in his chest. Had his brother been thinking the same things he had? "Well I don't really tink dat dere is an age limit specifically Flames. Why?" Flames turned around and began to pace, stopping again in front of his brother. "Well, Papa was only eleven when he was leada, an' Fish, da guy before him was only nine when he stawted." He said, his little forehead furrowed. "Looks like you done yer math." Sketch commented as his brother began pacing again.   
  
"Yeah I done my math. Sketch," Flames stopped pacing again. "I wanna be leada of Brooklyn." As Flames said the words, there was a strain of pleading in his voice. Sketch sat in silence for a moment, his brother's eyes never leaving his face. "Well, geez." Sketch muttered. "Oh fer cryin' out loud Sketch, say sometin'!" Flames yelled. "Okay, okay. I'm gettin' to it. I jest don't know what ta say. Why are ya tellin' me dis? Shouldn't ya be tellin' Mama an' Papa?" Sketch asked. Flames eyed him a moment, then began to pace again. "I should. But everyone tinks dat you'se is gonna be da next leada Sketch. I wanted ta tawk ta you foist an' see how ya's felt 'bout it." Flames said seriously. "Well I gotta tell ya da truth. I neva really wanted ta be leada." Flames stopped pacing and stared bug-eyed at his brother. "What?" He whispered.   
  
Sketch threw his hands in the air. "I'd much radda do sometin' else less publicized." Sketch said helplessly. "Why in da woild would ya wanna do sometin' else? I mean, tink of it! Bein' in charge of Brooklyn! Tellin' yer boys when ta soak scabs an' when not ta! Makin' sure yer guys is all okay an' satisfied! Makin' sua dat dey're gittin' enough cash an' fightin' da right guys! It would be great Sketch!" Flames said excitedly. "See, I'm jest not attracted ta dat Flames." Sketch said quietly. Flames eyed him silently. "Sketch, would ya help me convince Mama. I don't tink Papa'll be a problem." Flames said quietly. Sketch stood up and placed his hand on Flames' shoulder. "It's not jest gonna be Mama you've gotta convince. It's all of Brooklyn too." Sketch said softly.   
  
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	12. A Close Encounter

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The next day, Angel hesitated outside the Distribution Office. The little run in with the boys in the diner hadn't dampened her spirits and she wasn't about to give up on the note she had found just because of them. She decided that the only way she was going to get anymore clues was if she went back to the building. Angel managed to creep past the office, into Brooklyn, and to the building successfully, but when she arrived on the scene, she stopped in her tracks. There was a group of construction workers finishing the work of demolishing the building. Angel watched the debris fall in stunned silence before she walked up to one of the men. "Hey! Whatcha doin' dat fer?" She asked hesitantly. The man turned to her, a tired look on his face before turning back. "Gotta. Da city says it ain't no use jest hangin' around waitin' fer kids like you ta come 'round an' get hoit. So it comes down. Now scram!" He said.   
  
Angel frowned and walked a few feet away from the workers, watching as the building began to fall to the blackened earth. This was a new change in plans. She had hoped to pick around in the refuse and see if she could find any more evidence, but now it looked like that would be useless. She sighed and turned around, her head snapping to attention as a few familiar voices called to her. As Picks and Pockets walked up to her, she groaned and stuffed the note in her pocket. "Heya guys! Whatcha doin' here?" Angel asked in an unconcerned tone. "Sketch invited us ta go slingshottin' wit' him an' his boys, so we decided ta accept his invitation. Whaddya doin' out here?" Picks asked. Angel shrugged and stuck her hands further in her pocket. "Nothin'. Jest hangin' out. Kin I go wit' ya's?" She asked hopefully. Picks' forehead furrowed but Pockets grinned and put his arm around his sister's shoulders. "Sure sis! C'mon! It'll be fun! We ain't done sometin' tegedda like dis in a long time!" With that the three siblings walked off to Sketch's hideout.   
  
Angel was relieved that the twins had allowed her to go. She wanted to get the whole note thing off her mind. She was glad she did go. She, her brothers, and the boys of Brooklyn had a great time, not only slingshotting, but playing other games as well. A game called "Spill" was a popular choice among them. Sketch claimed to have made it up, but his sister claimed that it had been around before they were born so he couldn't claim ownership, but Sketch merely shrugged. The only way to describe "Spill" is to say that it was an old rendition of the modern game, "Truth or Dare", a great way to figure out what was wrong with your sibling or friend, or to find out if your best buddy is a fink. On this particular game, "Spill" seemed to be in Angel's best interest, but when Picks started eyeing her at his turn, she began to think that maybe it wasn't such a good idea. "I pick, Angel." Angel groaned and looked at Picks. "Okay, does ya hide snacks unda you'se an' Sunny's bed? SPILL!!" Angel silently breathed a sigh of relief. "Maybe a few." There were a few collective groans around the alley and Angel grinned.   
  
The game went on for a long time and finally, Pockets was chosen to be the last picker. He eyed the people in the alley and his gaze rested on Angel. Angel stared right back, confident that he wouldn't ask her anything secret. No one had so far. "Angel, why have ya been comin' ta Brooklyn ta see dat boined down house so often?" Angel's breath caught in her throat and for a moment she couldn't breath. Then she finally cleared her throat. "It's jest interestin' is all." She muttered. "Na-uh Angel. You knows da rules. It's gotta be a specific answa to da question." Sketch put in. Angel gulped and looked at her brother, who was staring at her intently. "Look, it ain't nothin'. It's jest, I wanna find out who done it! Dats all!" She burst out. The group looked at her curiously. "Okay! Well I guess we're done den. Who wants ta go wit' me an' git some grub 'fore da aftanoon edition?" Sketch asked, jumping up and taking the attention off of Angel.   
  
Fortunately for Angel, her brothers forgot all about the incident the minute food was mentioned. They asked her if she wanted to go and Angel shook her head. She walked back slowly to Manhattan, sold her papes and went home. All during dinner, she was quiet among all the hubub that her brothers and sisters made. After dinner she walked up to her mother. "Mama, I'm gonna go out fer a bit. I won't stay out long. I jest wanna get some time alone." Bright Eyes nodded knowingly. "Sure, dats fine. It's ceitanly hard ta get any time alone 'round here ain't it?" She asked Angel, her eyes twinkling. Angel laughed and walked out the door into the cool summer night air.   
  
Angel walked and walked and walked, not caring where she went, just letting her legs go where they wished. Eventually she found herself down at the end of Manhattan, staring at the many old and abandoned buildings. There were a few sweat-shops and even a Newsie boarding house that had been boarded up long ago. Suddenly, she raised her head erect as a smell wafted around her. She knew what it was. She began to run in the direction that the wind blew the smell towards her, her heart pounding in her chest. Angel ran around an alleyway corner and halted in her tracks.   
  
She took a step backward and put her hand up to her mouth. There a few feet away from her, was a fiery inferno. The waves of heat pounded against Angel, making her take a few more steps backwards. The flames were consuming the whole building, once a sweat-shop from the looks of it. Angel stared at it in stunned silence, watching the wooden beams collapse from the weight of the fire. Angel groped in the darkness for the alley wall, but realized that she had strayed away from the alley. Even though the street was filled with light from the blaze, the smoke was immense, clouding every doorway and passage. A sudden gust of wind blew smoke into her face and she began to cough frantically. Her hand groped for the wall and finally touched something solid. She moved her body closer, but stopped as the solid thing moved. It suddenly moved out of her way, making her lose her grasp. Angel coughed frantically as she fell to the ground, putting out her hand to catch herself. She fell into the dirty street, twisted around so that her face was right-side up.   
  
When Angel squinted through the smoke, she saw a dirty frightened face. She could tell that he was as frightened as she, his black hair blending into the smoke and contrasting with the pure white stars in the sky. She couldn't tell the color of his eyes, but he looked so dark, so foreboding, even though he was afraid. Suddenly a wave of pain shook Angel's lungs as she coughed again. He took a step away from her and she thrust out her arm desperately towards him from her place on the ground. He hesitated as Angel's hand reached for him. Angel tried with all her strength to stay awake, but the smoke had begun to overpower her senses and had clouded her eyesight so that with each passing moment, the boy's figure was slowly becoming invisible with the rest of the world.   
  
Finally Angel's eyes closed and her hand dropped to the ground. The boy took another step backward, his frightened brown eyes fixed on her still figure. He looked at the blaze that threatened to overpower him if he didn't leave right at that moment, then looked back at the girl's figure. If he left her, she would be destroyed. He rallied up his strength and scooped the thin girl from the ground, her head resting against his chest. He squinted against the smoke and felt along the walls until he found an opening to the alleyway. He ran through, coughing and choking as he carried Angel out.   
  
He finally reached a spot where the smoke didn't follow him. He laid her down and patted her gently a few times on the face till he saw that her eyelids flutter. Then he leapt to his feet and ran off into the darkness to join his comrades who watched him with frightened eyes, all save one, who watched Angel sit up slowly, the emotion in his eyes unreadable. He stayed there until he was sure she could make it on her own, then turned to the boy. "I'm sorry. I woulda come out soona. But da smoke was jest comin' an' comin' an' I couldn't figure out where ta go. It was a miracle I even got out wit' her." The boy said. The leader looked at him sharply and put his arm on his shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it Raven. You did da right ting. We was jest worried. Don't be so careless next time dough. Don't worry 'bout it." He murmured as he watched Angel get to her feet clumsily and begin to run through the streets. He knew where she would go. She would go to get help, then his work would be observed once more. He only hoped that she wouldn't get so close to them next time.   
  
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	13. Replaced?

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Sketch stopped hesitantly on the dock. He looked behind him at Flames, who looked up at him with a look of doubt on his face. Sketch looked down on the dock and saw his father finishing the packing in the impending evening. Sketch knew that his father father had sent the other men home to their families while he finished the work. He smiled to himself at this selfless act. He took a deep breath, motioned to Flames and walked toward his father. Spot looked up as his sons approached, smiling at their serious faces. "Whassa matta? Someone die?" Spot teased. Flames cracked a smile and Sketch became somewhat relaxed.   
  
"Naw. Papa dere's sometin' me an' Flames wanna tawk ta ya 'bout." Spot nodded seriously, sitting down on one of the crates. Flames walked up tentatively to his father and took a deep breath. "I wanna be leada of Brooklyn." He said quickly. Spot's eyes widened, but he smiled a moment later. "Well yer brudda's foist in line ya know." Spot said gently. "I don't wanna be leada." Sketch broke in. Spot's eyes widened and he looked up at him sharply. "Ya don't?" Spot murmured. Sketch shook his head. "Naw. I ain't suited to it. It don't hold an' interest wit' me, but Flames here," Sketch paused, putting an arm on his brother's shoulder. "He kin do it jest fine. He jest needs a few pointas as ta where ta stawt." Sketch finished. Spot's forehead remained furrowed for a moment before he looked up again at Sketch. "You sure you wanna do dis?" He asked him quietly. Sketch nodded. "I'm sure."   
  
Spot nodded and stood up, putting an arm on Flames. "Well kid, we gotta stawt from da beginnin'. Foist, ya's got ta gain yer boys' trusts. Dats da foist ting." Spot said. "I done dat wit' my group." Flames said excitedly. "Yeah, but dey ain't alla Brooklyn." Sketch pointed out. Spot grinned at his oldest son. "Sketch is right. So da next ting you'se gotta do is you gots ta tell 'em dat yer gonna try out bein' leada. Den you tell dem ta tell dey're udda friends an' ta spread it 'round dat Flames Conlon is tryin' out fer leada! Afta dat, ya jest gotta answa questions." Spot said proudly. "Whaddya mean? Answa questions?" Flames said, looking up at his father. "Well, once woid gets around dat a kid is gonna try ta be leada, udda boys comes lookin' fer ya ta ask ya what kinda tings you'd do as leada, ya know?" Spot said. Flames grinned and nodded. "Yeah sure. Dis is gonna be great! I'm gonna be da best Brooklyn leada eva!" Flames yelled, throwing his hands in the air.   
  
Sketch looked at his little brother with a smile and his eyes drifted back to Spot. It was obvious that his father was pleased to death to have a son follow in his footsteps. So was he mad at HIM for not wanting to be leader? Would all their times where they just sat and talked be over? Sketch stood alone for a time as his father shouldered his tools and walked off towards the little house that sat on the wharf, his little son's hand holding his own tightly. Spot's head was bent so that he could hear the tiny voice babbling on and on. A smile was on his face and he looked more happy than he had been in a long time. A pang struck at Sketch's heart. "So'm I gonna be replaced or sometin' 'cause I ain't gonna be leada?" He murmured as he watched his father and brother disappear into the darkness.   
  
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	14. "Conlons Don't Feel Pain"

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Sunshine eyed Angel as she walked away from the Distribution Office. She was worried about her sister, and from the look on her father's face as he watched her go, he was too. Angel had run into the house late at night, out of breath, and covered with soot. Her face was almost black and as her parents ran to her asking what had happened, she blabbered the event to them breathlessly. She had been stuck in a fire. She couldn't say where for she didn't even know herself. But she had been saved. By whom she didn't know. Angel had then slipped into an unusually silent Angel and hadn't really spoken since. That worried Sunshine. It seemed alright if she herself could slip into that untalkative state, but that was because she had talkative Angel to be with her. If Angel was the one not speaking, it would all be strange, for SHE would have to be the one holding her sister up.   
  
Sunshine set her chin on edge and flipped through the paper. On the second page she found what she was looking for, an article on the fire. It had been started in an abandoned lower Manhattan sweatshop and had spread to several of the other buildings surrounding it. There was considerable damage, but all were abandoned. Sunshine set the paper down on her lap thoughtfully. Then she stood up and began to sell her papers, knowing full well where she would be afterwards.   
  
After she finished selling her papers, Sunshine set off towards Brooklyn in a determined stride. She would be brave. She would be brave and gutsy for Angel. She had to find Sketch. She found him at one of his hideouts. It was on one of the many docks in Brooklyn. He was sitting hunched over on a crate, occasionally shooting marbles at the bottles he had lined up on another crate. Sunshine stopped short at the sight of him. Now that the moment had come, she was even more frightened, but what also took her aback was the apparent look of anger and hurt on Sketch's face. She took another step forward and cleared her throat.   
  
Sketch started and eyed her. He relaxed somewhat, but not very much, and not enough for Sunshine's comfort. "Hey Sunshine." He said quietly, taking aim with his slingshot. Sunshine smiled and walked up to him. "Hey Sketch. Kin I tawk ta ya fer a second?" She asked gently. Sketch shrugged and shot another bottle with grim accuracy. "Sure, you're the only one who does. What?" He asked shortly. Sunshine drew in her breath at his words. They were harsh. Sketch was hardly ever harsh, even with her. "It doesn't matter. Never mind." She blurted out. "Yeah, it does. Obviously you wouldn't have gone lookin' fer me! Now whaddya want?" Sketch burst out angrily.   
  
Sunshine's eyes widened and the familiar feeling of the hard lump rising in her throat washed over her. Her eyes began to fill with tears, but she quickly gulped them down again. "Whassa matta wit' you? You neva act dis way!" She yelled. Sketch was taken aback at the sound of Sunshine yelling, but he quickly struck back. "No one cares how I act! All anybody wanted was me ta be jest like me fadda! 'Oh Sketch, yer gonna be jest like yer fadda!' Well dose days are gone an' I might as well be lyin' in a gutter fer as much attention as everyone gives me!" Sketch yelled. "Oh shudup! What are you tawkin' about?" Sunshine yelled back. "Since I ain't gonna be leada of Brooklyn no more an' Flames is, I seem ta be of no importance no more! So why are you even here? Huh? So you kin gloat?" Sketch asked fiercely.   
  
Sunshine's angry face melted into tears as she spoke. "Why would I do dat ta you Sketch?" She choked through the tears that streamed down her face, all the pent up anxiety pouring out of her. At the sight of her tears, Sketch realized what he had done. He took a step towards Sunshine, but she instantly jumped back. "Don't come anywhere near me Sketch Conlon! Jest, don't!" She choked. "Sunny, I," Sketch started. "Don't call me Sunny! Me names' Sunshine! You obviously don't care enough ta call me Sunny! I jest wanted some advice! Some simple advice as ta what ta do wit' Angel, an' here ya jest explode on me fer no reason! Do ya, oh geez, jest fergit it! Fergit it!" Sunshine stormed as she turned around and ran away, tears still streaming down her red cheeks. Sketch stood still on the dock. Then his sat down on the crate, cradling the slingshot in his hand. As he did so, one tear slid down his cheek, but he wiped it away fiercely and whispered over and over, "Conlons don't feel pain. Conlons don't feel pain."   
  
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	15. Only the Beginning

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"Angel, you sure you wanna go out tenite? I mean, tink 'bout happened last night." Racetrack said, holding his daughter's hand tightly in his own. She smiled and squeezed it tightly. "Yeah I'm sure. I jest wanna go out. An' I promise I won't go by no abandoned buildin's." Angel laughed. Racetrack gave her a nervous smile and looked to Bright Eyes. She shrugged and smiled at her daughter. "You jest be careful Angel. Don't do nothin' stupid." Bright Eyes warned as Angel stood from the table and walked towards the door. "You know me. I'll be back lata." Angel said with a smile, closing the door quietly behind her. Bright Eyes crooked a finger at Racetrack. Racetrack's eyes widened as he pointed to himself. The children began to titter as their mother nodded to their father. Racetrack groaned and stood up, walking up to Bright Eyes and accepting the towel for drying the dishes. The children broke into laughter as he threw it over his shoulder with a scowl. "Hey you guys wanna help or what?" He yelled. The children grinned and immediately made themselves scarce as Bright Eyes laughed.   
  
Grabs looked up from the kite he was making in his room for Taps as the door across from the boys' room slammed shut and a shine of golden hair met his eyes. He set the kite down on the bed, much to Taps' disappointment. "Aincha gonna finish it Grabs?" Taps asked. "Yeah I am. I'll be right back. Don't tech it. Uddawise it might break. Da glue ain't set in yet." Grabs warned as he stepped across the hall to the girls' room. Taps looked at him with a sigh and eyed the kite. "What did he mean, da glue ain't set in yet?" Ice whispered. Taps shrugged. "I dunno. I ain't da one buildin' da kite." He said. "Well I wanna see what happens when I DOES tech it." Ice said, lifting a tender finger to touch the kite. Taps grabbed her hand and wrestled her away. "No Ice! If you tech it you ain't gonna use it wit' me!" He protested. Immediately Ice drew her hand away. "It ain't fair. Dats bribery. Mama said." She pouted. "Oh well. I jest gotta do what I gotta do." Taps said firmly.  
  
Grabs knocked on the door quietly, and when he didn't get an answer he walked in. Sunshine was laying face-down on the bed, still and quiet. "Hey whassa matta Sunny?" Grabs asked gently, sitting down on the double bed Sunshine shared with Angel. Sunshine sat up at the sound of his voice, revealing her red face and stained cheeks. "I dunno. I jest, I hate it when people's mean ta me!" She burst out. "Whaddya mean? Whose been bein' mean to ya?" Grabs asked tenderly. "Sketch." She whispered. Immediately, Grabs' eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Sunshine saw this with wide eyes and immediately she grabbed one of his fists. "He didn't mean it Grabs! He was upset an' I came at a bad time! It wasn't his fault. Please don't hoit 'im Grabs!" She pleaded. Grabs sighed and patted his sister on the back. "I'll do my best. But if he does it again Sunny, you tell me an' I'll beat da livin' crap outta him." Grabs threatened as he walked to the door. "Danks Grabs. But I don't tink I'll be needin' it." Sunshine said quietly. Grabs sighed and smiled back at her as he closed the door. Sunshine's face crumpled once more and she sank back down on the pillow, her shoulders beginning to shake once more.  
  
Angel crept towards the lower end of Manhattan once more, her eyes open and alert. This time she was sure she would find the culprits. She had identified one. If she could find him, she could find the rest of his crew. Then she could stop this. She searched the site, but found nothing. She was just about to give up when a low whistle attracted her attention. She hid behind an alley, peeking out from behind it. A few boys, then a few more, emerged from the shadows, following one other boy. She assumed he was the one who had whistled as he was leading them into the darkness. She smiled grimly and crept towards them, following their every step. They walked for what seemed like hours. Angel had no idea where she was or what she was doing, but she continued to follow them.   
  
Then suddenly, the boys stopped outside a building. Angel sat back against a wall in astonishment. She knew this place. It was in the middle of the Bronx. She had hid outside it with her younger brothers and sisters when her parents and the Conlons had fought to save Grabs from Oscar Delancy. There had been a shoot-out inside, she had been told later, and Grabs had shot Oscar, leaving a scar in his back. Then she took her attention back to the boys. She now counted six of them, all sizes, tall and short. The leader, a tall gangly youth, put his hand in the air and called for someone. One of the other boys handed him an object and the leader took it. Then the leader lit a match and light struck into the darkness. Angel winced as the light stung her eyes. Then she noticed another boy running around the building, pouring something all around it. Her foot struck something as she moved closer. It was a jug exactly like the one the boy was carrying. She opened the lid and winced at the smell of alcohol. She quickly corked it again and her eyes fell upon the leader.  
  
He waited till the boy with the jug came back and then he took the lantern he was carrying over to the building. He stood still for a moment in the silence and darkness. His black hair was striking in the bright light of the lantern, the shadows it cast, bouncing off of his face. Angel couldn't see his face clearly, but she could tell it was intense and focused. Then he suddenly raised the lantern over his head and threw it on the ground. Instantly the flames leapt up and began to consume the building and the alcohol eagerly. The leader jumped back as the flames grew higher. He watched them a moment, then walked back to the group of boys.   
  
Angel watched them, her blue eyes intensely watching them. So intense was she that she didn't hear her stalker until too late, when his burly arms were around her, one large hand over her mouth. She struggled and tried to scream, but his hand was firm and his grip strong. The group of boys whirled around at the sound of the scuffle. Angel tried desperately to break free but to no avail and as the boy began to drag her over to the group, she ceased to struggle. When they reached the boys, her captor held her straight and let her go. She shoved herself away from him fiercely, eyeing him as she did so. His blonde hair was of medium length, his brown eyes large and bright. In them was a sense of loyalty to his gang. She could tell. The same loyalty burned in her eyes when it came to protecting her family.  
  
She looked away from him and instead focused her gaze on the leader. He stared back at her intensely. Then suddenly as the moon came out from behind the clouds and reflected in the deep blue oceans of his eyes, she gasped. Angel stared at him, recognition echoing in her eyes. The boy cocked an eyebrow and to her surprise, smiled gently. Then he looked up to Angel's captor. "Good woik Quincy. I knew we was bein' follaed. Looks like mebey you wanted sometin' from me afta all. I might notta been ice-cream or even a kiss, but dats okay." He said, winking at her as the boys tittered. "Whaddya doin' dis fer? Dis is crazy!" Angel burst out.   
  
The boy's mood changed from relaxation to seriousness. "Fer revenge. Dats da only reason I kin do dis an' pull dis off." Angel scoffed. "Revenge don't cause nothin' but headaches. Its so stupid! Yer jest gonna end up in da Refuge fer it anyway!" The boy laughed and shook his head. "Naw. I'm too smart fer da bulls. Too smart. Besides, dis is only da beginnin'. I ain't even gotten to da middle of me plans." He said with a smile. "So what is ya plans?" Angel asked quietly. He eyed her for a moment, then looked away. "Why should I tell ya?" He asked. "Because mebey ya need ta." She murmured, looking away from him. He walked up to her and held up her chin so that she looked at him. "I don't need ta tell nobody nothin'. Not even you angel goil." He said quietly. He finally dropped her chin and walked away. "Look, we'll let ya off da hook dis time, but next time, keep away from us." He said firmly, motioning to his boys.  
  
"Wait!" Angel called out. The boy stopped and turned around to face her. "Me name IS Angel." The boy cocked his head and grinned. "Really? Well it suits ya." He said, his eyes dancing. "Whats yers?" Angel asked tentatively. The boy laughed out loud. "Sorry angel-goil. I cain't even tell ya dat!" He laughed as he turned around and walked away, melding into the darkness. Angel watched him go, then hesitated. Then she began to follow him, slowly in the darkness. She hadn't gone far when she heard a footstep behind her. She stopped and whirled around, striking out in the darkness. A hand grasped her fist and twisted her to the ground. Angel began to fight the force pushing her down but stopped when it spoke. "Geez, would ya cool it Angel! Geez a guy could git killed by you!" Sketch's familiar voice rang out. Angel leapt to her feet. "Conlon! Whaddya doin' here?" She moaned.   
  
"Whaddya tink? Tryin' ta find you. Yer parents is worried sick." Sketch explained. Angel sighed. "Well what are you doin' out here Conlon? Ain't it past YER bedtime too?" She asked sarcastically. Sketch rolled his eyes. "I don't GOT a bedtime. 'Sides, I was in Manhattan an' yer folks asked me ta go. I caught sight of ya afta a while, but I lost ya." Sketch explained. "Well ya found me. Now leave me alone." Angel said, starting to take up the trail once more before Sketch grabbed her arm. "I don't tink so. Yer parents wanted me ta BRING ya's home." He said firmly. Angel groaned and complied to his grasp, letting him walk her back towards the Manhattan district.   
  
The two were silent for a time, occasionally Angel would look at Sketch, but she would see nothing but his firm look straight ahead. She finally sighed and burst out, "So what did ya do ta Sunny?" That got a reaction out of Sketch. He started, then looked at her sadly. "I dunno. What is she doin'?" He asked quietly. "Well, she was all depressed all durin' suppa an' she jest didn't tawk 'bout nothin'. I figured dat it was sometin' ta do wit' you." Angel explained. Sketch sighed and hung his head. "Yeah well, it is my fault sorta. I mean, I was mad at meself an' I took it out on her. Tell her I'm sorry, an', an' give her dis woncha?" Sketch mumbled, shoving a package in Angel's hand.   
  
Angel accepted it and nodded. "You wanna tell me whats wrong witcha?" She asked gently. Sketch looked at Angel apprehensively. The two of them had always gotten along, but most of the time they fought. Both of them were tough, and neither wanted the other getting the better of them. This time Sketch could tell she was sincere. "I cain't Angel. Danks dough. Mebey some udda time. I jest need time ta sort tings out." Sketch said, patting Angel's hand. Angel nodded and gently released her arm. "Well Conlon, it's been nice, but I've gotta run. Danks fer takin' da time ta git me home." Angel said, stepping across the Manhattan border. Sketch smiled and waved at her. "Yeah yer welcome Higgins. Do me a fava. Don't go wandrin' out so far at night. Ya neva know what could be goin' on wit' all dese fires." Angel grinned.  
  
"You worried 'bout me Conlon?" She teased. Sketch grinned. "Well I've got me duties ta all da ladies I likes." Angel laughed and rolled her eyes. "C'mon! Da only goil ya really like is Sunny!" She lauhged. Sketch's face went pale, but only for a moment. Then his face became sober as he leaned closer and whispered, "Don't tell nobody okay? It's a secret." He whispered. Angel grinned. "Alrighty den. But I suppose I kin tell Sunny cain't I?" She asked. "Actually I'd radda tell her meself, if ya don't mind Angel." Sketch whispered. Angel smiled and patted his back. "No problem Conlon. I'll let ya do all da love tawk. Yer betta at it anyway." She said. Sketch grinned and took a few steps backwards. "Yeah, I got da floitin' ways from me Papa, Mama says. An' I do believe it's gospel trut'." Sketch laughed. Angel grinned and burst into a hearty laugh. "Git outta here Conlon, 'fore ya wake up da whole neighbahood!" She said. Sketch smiled and ran off into the darkness, leaving Angel to make her way home alone.  
  
When Angel reached her home, she stepped in quietly, whispered goodnight to her parents and slipped into her room. All of her sisters were asleep, Ice curled up in Fairy's arms in their double bed, and Sunshine all alone in the bed she shared with Angel. Angel crept into bed and touched Sunshine gently on the shoulder. Sunshine didn't stir in a few minutes she whispered, "Ya stink like smoke Angel." Angel grinned as her sister rolled over on her side and stared at her with smiling brown eyes. "Yeah, I was jest wandrin'." She said. "You've been doin' alotta wandrin' lately." Sunshine pointed out. "Yeah I have, but it's necessary I guess. You okay?" Sunshine nodded. "Yeah. I had a tawk wit' Grabs. It's all okay. Still hoits dough." Sunshine whispered.  
  
"Well hoit no more. I gots sometin' fer ya from Sketch." Angel whispered. Sunshine shot up in bed, surprising Angel. "Good grief goil! Ya tink you could jump up quicka? I didn't hit da ceilin' dat time!" Angel burst out, then lowering her voice, remembering the sleeping occupants of the house. "Oh, what did he say?" Sunshine whispered fervently. "He said ta tell ya dat he's sorry an' dat he was jest mad at hisself an' he took it out on you. An' he said ta give ya dis. I don't know what it is." Angel said, shoving the package in her sister's hand. Sunshine hesitated a minute, then whispered. "Lets go out on da fire escape. Dat way I kin see betta in da moonlight an' we won't hafta worry 'bout wakin' nobody up." She whispered, easing open the window.   
  
Angel nodded and crept through after her sister, plopping down on the fire escape as soon as they reached it. Sunshine eagerly tore through the newspaper wrapping and gasped as she held the thing in her hands like the precious treasure it was. It was a small slingshot, just the right size to fit in Sunshine's delicate hands. Painstakingly inscripted on the back, in an attempt at flourished letters, was the name Sunny. Sunshine picked up another item in the paper remnants. It was a golden marble, beautiful and sparkling like a jewel in the moonlight. Angel whistled as she looked at it. "Man, dat boy KIN be romantic when he wants ta." Sunshine didn't speak, but merely looked at the presents in awe and delight. "He's so nice ta me. So sweet." She whispered. Angel smiled and put her arm on her sister's back as they both looked at the presents from the son of Brooklyn.  
  
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	16. A Wonderful Day and a Resolution

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Sketch sat alone on the dock. Well, not totally alone. His father was there too. His father and Flames. They were both sitting on the other end of the dock, talking eagerly. With Spot's help and proddings, Flames had succeeded to gain most of the respect of Brooklyn. Now he had to make his moves and fulfill his promises to keep order in Brooklyn in order to be accepted. Sketch admitted to himself that his brother did answer all the questions put to him in stride. As much as he loved his brother, Sketch still burned with envy. Ever since his brother had expressed his desire to be ruler of Brooklyn and Sketch had forfeited his turn, his father had virtually ignored him in order to teach Flames. Sketch missed his private times with his father. Now all those times were spent with Flames. Sketch finally moved his angry eyes away from the two blonde heads at the other end of the dock and fixed on a figure walking down the dock.  
  
She smiled and waved at Flames and Spot before proceeding down the dock towards him. Spot turned around to face Sketch and grinned before turning back around. Sketch blushed as he looked at Sunshine's bright face. Her hair was practically glowing like a halo in the fading sunlight. His eyes drifted downward and he grinned as he saw that in one small hand, she carried his slingshot. He gathered up his courage and smiled as she approached him. He stood up and put his hands on his hips like he always did when he was nervous. Sunshine smiled and gently touched his hands. "Ya don't need ta be neivous 'round me Sketch." She said with a smile. Immediately Sketch's hands fell to his sides. Then they raised again, this time crossing across his chest. Sunshine didn't correct him again, but instead chuckled softly.  
  
They stood in silence for a while before Sunshine spoke up. "Danks fer da slingshot an' da marble. Dey're really great. Ya put allotta woik inta 'em." She said gratefully. Sketch put his hand up to his head, blushing. "Aw, it was nothin'. Jest wanted ta apologize to ya. I'm sorry again by da way." He said quickly. Sunshine nodded. "Yeah Angel told me. I fergive ya." She said with a smile. Sketch breathed a sigh of relief. "Well danks Sunny. Dats nice of ya. I wanna tell ya sometin'." He said, his breath constricting once more. Sunshine smiled and cocked her head. "What?" She asked. Sketch closed his eyes, searching his mind for the words he had already composed in his mind before she came. They had disappeared. He breathed a shaky breath. He would have to compose other words.  
  
"Sunny," He couldn't breath. "Sunny, I wanna tell ya dat, well, foist of all could ya stop lookin' at me fer a sec so I kin breath?" He burst out. Sunshine burst out laughing but looked down at the ground. "Okay, well, Sunny, I wanna tell ya dat, I likes ya alot." Sunshine's head shot up, her brown eyes sparkling. "Really? Ya like me, like, like, dat?" She whispered hopefully. Sketch grinned and put a hand on hers. "More dan life itself." He whispered. Inwardly he was thinking that these words were better than the ones he had already composed but had forgotten. The others now seemed too elaborate, too much.   
  
Sunshine reached out her hand and grasped Sketch's tough one. Sketch's body seemed to be struck on fire as she touched him, even though it was gently. Her hand worked its way into his and he gripped it firmly. "You wanna go walkin'? Mebey we kin stop an' git sometin' ta eat on da way home or sometin'." Sketch asked gently. Sunshine didn't speak, but instead nodded and began to walk with him, hand in hand down the dock. Sketch looked back over his shoulder at his father. Flames was oblivious, playing in the water. Spot was standing tall on the horizon, watching Sketch, a small smile playing about his lips. Sketch turned back around, then frowned as he walked. He had remembered his speech.  
  
After Sketch had walked Sunshine home after the end of what was most likely the happiest day of his life, he began to shuffle back towards his own home. When he passed the dock, Sketch stopped short. His father was standing there, his hands on his hips, watching Flames shoot out bottles with his slingshot. He watched for a time, but his breath caught in his throat when he heard his father cry out, "Dats my Slingshot!" Sketch's fists immediately came together and his nails almost punctured the skin beneath them as he squeezed them tighter and tighter. That was HIS name. There were only two people on whom Spot bestowed that name. That was him and Taps Higgins. But it had been him first. Not Flames. HIM.   
  
This was the last straw. Sunshine, his love for her, his wonderful day, they were all forgotten. This was the final outrage. If this was the way his father was going to act, then fine. He didn't need him. He didn't need his stupid little kid name. He didn't need his usurping little brother either. He would just leave. He could take care of himself. He didn't need his father anymore. Besides, his father had Flames after all. With that Sketch spun around on his heels and began to walk briskly out of Brooklyn. As he walked, Sketch pondered where he could go. He could stay in Manhattan, but that was where his father would look first. "If he even looks." Sketch muttered. Besides it was too close to Brooklyn anyway. He didn't want his friends to find him either, let alone Sunny. He sighed at the thought of Sunshine, but he continued to walk. He couldn't hide out in Brooklyn, and he couldn't hide out in Queens. He was known in Queens. His mother's friends were there. Come to think of it he was known almost everywhere.   
  
As SKETCH. Sketch stopped as his brain spit this bit of information back at him. It was true. If he wasn't Sketch Conlon, no one would even know who he was. If people asked he could just say people had always said that he looked like Spot Conlon and he would just leave it at that. After several decisions on a name, Sketch decided on Michael Hansen. Michael was his father's real name and Hansen was his mother's maiden name. It made sense. Now the problem came up again as to where to go. As Sketch pondered this, he heard a far off Newsie shouting the headlines. "Trolley ovatoins in West Side! Tons o'people injoied!" Sketch's head came up. He could go to West Side! He wouldn't even be noticed there. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.   
  
By the time it was about nine o'clock or so, Sketch reached West Side. It was dark, and the shadows in the alley were elongated and more unfriendly than they would be in day light. Sketch shivered and crept into one of these alleys, pulling his coat around him further. He then took a deep breath and laid down his coat on the ground, laying on top of it and rubbing his arms for warmth. He would find a Newsie gang to join in the morning, but now, now he had to sleep.   
  
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	17. "Mike"

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"Hey kid. Hey wake up! It's mawnin' doncha know dat? Wake up!" Sketch's eyes popped open as he was kicked roughly in the small of his back by a terribly pointy shoe. He jumped to his feet and his blazing eyes looked for his attacker. Instantly he silenced that anger, for he realized that he was thoroughly surrounded. Seven boys stood around him, the one who had kicked him looking at him curiously. The leader's hair was pitch black, his eyes looked black as well, but were dark blue. All the darkness contrasted greatly with the boy's fair skin and the small smile on his lips. "Whatcha doin' sleepin' in an alley? Doncha know it ain't safe? 'Specially in West Side?" The leader asked. "Well I wouldn't know. I ain't neva been ta West Side. I jest came. I was gonna try ta find da Newsies Boadin' House but I didn't git da chance ta." Sketch stuttered. The boy smiled. "You a Newsie?" He asked. Sketch hesitated then replied, "Yeah. I'se been a Newsie before. I come from da, da, Bronx." Sketch said, thinking quickly. The boy nodded and put out his hand. "Da names Wolf. Dese is me boys. You?" Sketch quickly took the boy's hand, eager to make a friend. "Michael Hansen." Wolf nodded and released Sketch's hand. "I like Mike betta. So Mike, you really wanna be a Newsie?" Sketch mumbled and shook his shoulders. "I dunno. Its really da only ting I know how ta do." He said.  
  
"Do ya know how ta fight?" Wolf asked, his voice low. Sketch eyed Wolf hesitantly. "Yeah I kin fight. Why?" Sketch shrugged and leaned up against the wall. "See, I could tell you was a fighta from da way ya jumped up from da ground when I kicked ya. Yer fists were all balled up, ready ta fight no matta what da cost. I need sometin' like dat. 'Specially since I'm gittin' closa ta what I'm lookin' fer. Anyway, I wanna know if ya wanna join me boys." Wolf said seriously. Sketch eyed Wolf. "What would I hafta do?" Wolf stood up and began to pace back and forth. "Well foist off, you'd hafta help me do some damage. Fires an' such." Sketch's heart jumped in his throat. "You da ones dats been doin' da fires?" Wolf laughed, much to Sketch's surprise. "Sure. Da only reason I'm doin' dat is 'cause I'm hopin' ta boin one of 'em ova me enemy's head. Kill 'im. Dats da only reason I'm doin' it. Luckily Osca picks unhabitated places." Wolf said with a sad smile.  
  
Sketch cocked his head. "Osca?" Wolf waved his hand. "It ain't important. I'll tell ya if yer part of da gang, but as it is you ain't said nothin' on me proposition. Well?" Wolf asked. The wheels raced in Sketch's head as he thought the whole thing through. He could start a new life and be renowned with these boys. They seemed to wander anyway so they wouldn't stay in one place long. He could start a new life. One without his family. "Yeah I'll do it Wolf." Sketch spit on his hand and stuck it out. Wolf grinned and did the same, the two boys shaking hands. Sketch noticed the pleased smiles of the other boys as soon as he and Wolf let go of each other's hands. "Alrighty den Mike. Lets go git some grub." Wolf said, turning around with a pleased smile on his face.  
  
Sketch walked shyly behind most of the boys, but one of them sought him out as they walked. "Heya Mike! Da name's Ross. Nice ta meet ya. You'll like it here I tink. I'm pretty glad dat Wolf saw fit ta ask ya ta join. Dats a rare privelige ya know." Ross said seriously. Sketch nodded as he observed Ross. Ross was rather short. He was Italian, his brown hair wavy under the bowler hat on his head. His deep brown eyes were bright, sparkling and sincere. He reminded Sketch very much of Racetrack Higgins or Grabs. Then Ross smiled a broad smile, flashing all his white teeth. "You'll like it wit' us Mike. Nothin's borin' 'round here, an' you'll meet da rest of da guys ova breakfast." Ross promised, putting his arm around Sketch's shoulders good-naturedly, as if the two had known each other for ages.  
  
Ross kept his promise. Over breakfast, Sketch managed to memorize every boy's look and name. There was Raven, a tall, tanned boy with black hair, brown eyes and a shy, good-natured disposition. He was the second boy Sketch met after Ross. Slick was next. He was short, even shorter than Ross. Ross was up to Sketch's shoulder, while Slick was a good few inches under. He had bright red hair, red freckles, and a red face. His eyes were a twinkling light blue, looking almost white in color. He was an odd looking boy, but tough outwardly and as Wolf said, one of the greatest boxers in the streets. Then came Quincy. Quincy was very tall and brawny, the muscles in his arms bulging visibly under his shirt. His blonde hair was of a medium length and his brown eyes firm and serious. But when prodded, it was discovered that the serious Quincy had a rather dry sense of humor, one that was appreciated by all the boys.   
  
Then there were the twins, Snake and Spider. These two were exactly alike in every look facially. They both had wavy brown hair, bright blue eyes, tall, lanky bodies and a wonderful sense of humor. The only way to tell the two apart was that Snake had a winding set of freckles on the side of his face that looked like a snake. Spider in turn had a similar reason for his name. On his right upper arm, there was a birthmark, shaped very much like a spider. All of the boys were nice enough, but Sketch knew that when the time for battle was near, the joking, the fun, they would all disappear and the steel bars would block their hearts from being merciful.  
  
"So Mike, where ya hail from?" Wolf asked, looking up from his hot dog. Sketch took a deep breath. He hadn't thought of this. This or his fictional past life. "I'm actually not really from New Yawk. Me parents immigrated from Ireland." He gulped, saying the first nationality that came to his mind. Wolf nodded and grinned. "Me family did too. What parta New Yawk you been livin' in dough? You had ta be livin' somewhere all dis time." The wheels raced in Sketch's head as he sipped his water. "Nowhere. I actually been jest hoppin' here an' dere. Me Mama an' Papa is dead." He finally blurted out. Wolf's eyes grew dark and he nodded, turning back to his food. There was nothing else. The inquiry was done. Sketch was one of them.  
  
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	18. Windy

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A few weeks passed by with no action from the gang. Sketch inquired to Quincy about the lack of action and he shrugged. "Wolf wants ta make sure dat da people is surprised when he strikes next. So we's jest takin' a little break." He explained. This seemed suitable to Sketch enough. He liked just hanging out with the boys. But when Wolf announced his departure for a few days, Sketch's blood froze. "I'm gonna go away fer a few days. I'm puttin' Quincy in charge dis time." Wolf said, pointing to Quincy. The boys cheered and slapped Quincy on the back and for once, Quincy managed a pleased smile. "But where's ya goin'?" Sketch whispered after he had cut his way to Wolf through the crowd. Wolf grinned and winked at Sketch. "Doncha worry kid. Da guys won't hoit ya. An' anyway, I'll be back before ya know it." He said, slapping on his cap and walking boldly down the street, followed by the cheers of his gang members. Sketch watched him misreably as he went. "Dere goes my protection." He muttered. Ross came up from behind him and put his arm around Sketch's shoulder. "Doncha worry buddy boy. We'll have fun all by ourselves while da boss is gone! It'll be great!" He said, pulling Sketch away from his forlorn position on the road.  
  
Wolf turned around the corner to look at the boys. Already they were talking eagerly about what they would do while he was gone. He smiled and turned back around. "Let 'em have dey're fun. Dey'se good boys and dey'se seived me well. I jest hope dey don't blow dey're cova, but I know dat Quincy kin handle dat." Wolf murmured to himself. He walked all alone for a long time before he arrived in Queens territory. He made his way past the many houses and stores before he came to the Distribution Office. He walked past the line of boys waiting for their turns and instead walked into the back room where numerous people, men and boys, were putting papers in order. His dark blue eyes searched the room until a blonde head and flushed face came into view.  
  
"Heya Windy. Ya gotta minute?" He asked quietly. The man raised his flushed and sweaty face upward and grinned in realization. "Heya kid! How ya doin'?" Windy asked, clapping a hand on the boy's back. "Good. You gotta minute?" Wolf repeated. Windy looked over at the other men who waved their hands at him. "Ah, I'm gittin' off in five minutes anyway. What's skippin' out eaily gonna do?" Windy mused, putting his arm around Wolf's shoulder and walking out of the office with him. A few minutes later the two came to rest on a nearby park bench. Wolf was silent for a few minutes, his fingers playing with a bright green leaf. Windy watched him patiently, waiting for him to speak.  
  
Finally, Wolf's head looked up, not at Windy, but at the sky above him, with a somewhat searching glance. "I been doin' good. But not great Windy. I ain't got 'im yet." He murmured mournfully. Windy looked at him contemplatively, but didn't speak. Wolf lowered his head and looked at Windy. "I dunno what I'll do if I don't git 'im Windy. I've gotta git 'im. He took my life an' now I gotta take his!" Wolf said angrily. Windy placed a steady hand on Wolf's arm that had begun to tense. As a reflex, Wolf threw Windy's hand off before he knew what he was doing. Wolf's eyes softened as he realized what he had done and he looked away, but not before mumbling, "Sorry Windy." Windy nodded and leaned back against the bench.   
  
"You got spirit Wolf. Yer fadda would be proud of ya fer dat. But ya gotta undastan' dat once you kill 'im, it's all ova. All of it. Den what'll ya do huh? What'll yer boys do? Dey've been specifically chosen ta help ya do dis crime. Dey don't know how ta do anytin' else but fight. What are dey gonna do? What are you gonna do wit' da rest of yer life?" Windy asked pointedly. Wolf didn't look at Windy for a few moments. "I'm jest tryin' ta git revenge fer me fadda." Wolf murmured. Windy's eyes softened, but they still contained firm resolve. "I know dat. But you've gotta realize da consequences of yer actions. What if da bulls catch ya?" Windy asked earnestly. Wolf turned upon Windy, his eyes flashing. He jumped up from the bench and clenched his fists. "Don't eva say dat Windy! Da bulls'll neva catch me! Dey cain't! Dey didn't do nothin' 'bout me fadda's death an' dey ain't gonna do nothin' afta I kill a moidera! I kin take care of everytin' Windy! Undastan'?" With that, Wolf stormed away from Windy, turning the corner angrily. Windy looked after him for a time, shook his head and murmured, "He's jest like his fadda."   
  
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	19. Jade

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Pockets had never seen Jade Conlon's eyes so green and intense. In fact, he had never seen her so concerned before. He could tell that she was worried merely by the way she walked up to him at his selling spot. He stopped himself from yelling out another headline and instead lowered the paper. He stared at her until she finally lifted her head, fixing her green eyes on him. "You seen Sketch aroun' here Pockets?" She asked wearily. Pocket's blue eyes widened in concern. "No Jade, I ain't. Wassa matta? Sometin's wrong." Jade sighed and sat down on the curb. Pockets followed her example, sitting next to her. "Yeah sometin's da matta Pockets." Jade murmured. She didn't speak for a few more moments, but when she did, her usually strong voice was weak and quivering.   
  
"Sketch went out last night an' didn't come back. I tought he was hangin' out at yer place, but I jest asked Grabs an' he said dat Sketch didn't even come to yer house." Jade said, her emotions overtaking her for a moment. She stopped, taking deep breaths and gulping several times before continuing. "Mama's gettin' herself in a tizzy, nothin's done 'round da house, all da kids is goin' beserk 'cause dey don't git what's goin' on. An' Papa, Papa." Jade stopped again, blinking back the crystal tears from her eyes. "Papa's goin' crazy. He ain't slept since last night. He won't listen ta Mama, an' he ain't neva aroun'. He's goin' 'round ta all da districts temorra. He would be goin' teday, but he finally listened ta Mama an' is at home sleepin'. He's jest goin' crazy Pockets. He keeps sayin' it's his fault, but he won't say why. Mama's hoitin' so bad 'cause he won't tell her nothin'. Oh Pockets, everytin's goin' so wrong an' I don't know what ta do or say." Jade whispered.  
  
Pockets watched her with sympathetic eyes. He had never seen Jade like this, so helpless and hurt, let alone crying. It was a well known fact that Conlon's rarely showed emotion. It was like showing the world that they were weak and they didn't want this. Pockets, though he liked the Conlon's, had always thought them an overly proud race, unable of emotion, but now his convictions changed completely. He didn't know what to say or do to help her. He couldn't say anything, he knew that. He didn't have a way with words like Picks did. Picks could think of something to say that would comfort Jade, but if he tried it would come out as insensitive and rude. He couldn't do anything either, for fear that it would come out in the same way. But he did think of one thing he could do that wouldn't injure Jade further. Slowly, he slipped his arm around the girl's huddled shoulders and drew her close to him, rocking her gently. Then he thought of what to say. "It'll be okay Jade. It'll be okay." He whispered. Jade didn't respond, but merely huddled closer to him and sobbed, her fingers clutching his arm like she could never let go.  
  
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	20. The Return of Wolf

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Sketch looked up from his craps game, groaning over his losses as he did so, but he broke off mid-groan as he noticed the tall figure walking up to them. He jumped to his feet, the other boys looking up at him curiously, but when they saw the person, they too followed his example. "Heya Wolf! Nothin' happened. Very uneventful." Quincy said reassuringly. Wolf smiled and put his hand on his back, then walked up to Sketch. Sketch gulped as Wolf's intense eyes focused on him. "An' how you doin' Mike? Did da boys give you any trouble?" He asked quietly, looking at the boys out of the corner of his eye. "Aw no Wolf! Dey've been great! No pressure ner nothin'. Everytin's smooth." Sketch said quickly, but earnestly. It was true. The boys had accepted him into their family on faith that Wolf said it was well.   
  
Wolf smiled again and nodded, placing a hand on Sketch's shoulder. "Good kid. Dats good. Who wants some grub?" Wolf cried out. The boys yelled their approval and Sketch followed them as they ran around the corner to the nearest restaurant. An hour later, after telling all the stories of what had happened during the few days, the boys dissipated, Wolf insisting that they have some quiet time by themselves to think of their next job. He also jostled Ross' arm with a wink saying, "Yeah an' while yer at it Ross, go an' see yer goil. She'll be wantin' ta see ya right 'bout now. You slick Casanova." Ross blushed a deep red as the boys howled loudly and winked at Mike. "You wanna come? You'll hafta wait outside obviously, but still. Please come Mike! I git so neivous an' I need somebody ta tawk me outta runnin' away!" Ross pleaded. The boys around him laughed loudly at Ross' outburst, and even Wolf couldn't repress a chuckle. "Sure I'll come Ross. No problem." Sketch laughed, following Ross as he scuffled away.  
  
After walking to the Queens district the two boys stopped outside a large building. The sign on it read, QUEENS GIRL'S ORPHANAGE. Ross ran his fingers through his hair nervously, then picked up a rock on the road, looked down both sides of the street. When he was sure no one was watching, he looked over at Sketch nervously. "Here goes nothin'." He muttered. Then he closed his eyes briefly, before opening them and pitching the rock against a certain window. He waited a few moments before backing away. "Well she must not be in dere. Oh well, lets cheese it Mike. We tried." Sketch grabbed a firm hold of Ross' arm. "No come on! Give her a minute. Pitch anudda rock up dere. Harder dis time." Ross looked at him as if he were crazy. "Have you lost yer marbles? If one of dem school marms was in dere she'd catch it, an' I'D catch it! Plus I might break da winda if I pitch it any harder." Sketch furrowed his forehead in thought before grinning and reaching into his pocket.   
  
"Here, lemme do it." Ross looked at him curiously, then his face cleared as he saw Sketch pull out a slingshot and a marble. "I shoulda known dat you'd have a good idea like dat Mike." He said gratefully. Sketch grinned as he fit the marble in the slingshot, aiming carefully, and letting the rubber band fly. The marble sailed up at the window and hit it with a sharp ping. Ross winced, but all apprehension flew away as a pretty girl opened the window. Her long red curls hung over her shoulders, her face rosy, and her green eyes flashing excitedly made a bewitching effect. "Oh Ross! Ya did come! I was afraid that ya wouldn't git tha chance ta! Wait there an' I'll be with ya in a moment!" She yelled down in an obvious Irish brogue, tearing away from the window in a passion.   
  
Ross grinned and looked over a Sketch, pointing towards the empty window proudly. "Dats my goil." He said. Sketch grinned and began to back away. "When do ya want me ta come aroun'?" Sketch asked. Ross shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. I tell ya what, jest go back ta da meetin' spot when yer ready. Don't worry 'bout me. I'll be dere soon. See ya Mike!" He called as the girl rushed out of the building and flew to him, wrapping her arms around him. Sketch smiled as Ross placed his hands around her thin waist and lifted her in the air. Sketch shook his head as the girl giggled and begged him to let her down before walking away.   
  
His father did that to his mother when she least expected it. She might have just come back into the kitchen in a foul mood after putting the younger boys to bed and Spot would rush up to her, kiss her fiercely and throw her in the air over his shoulder. She would yell and tell him to let her down, all the while she laughed happily. Spot would turn to Sketch and wink, before walking out of the house with her still on his shoulder. Sketch knew that he would let her down before long and the two would do what they'd always done almost every evening since they'd married. They would take a long walk on the beach, talking about what had happened, their worries, their cares, telling each other their soul's secrets.   
  
Sketch shook his head. He could almost hear his father telling him that in order to have a wife and keep her, he had to respect her, that was the only way it would work. "I leained da hard way." Spot would laugh, tossing his head in Blue's direction. Sketch stopped in his tracks, then leapt into an alley, his heart jumping in his chest. He had heard his father's voice. It was near, just behind the alley he hid in. "Windy, you sure you ain't seen Sketch?" His father's voice was strained, almost weak, much to Sketch's amazement. "I'm tellin' ya Spot, if I had seen him I woulda told ya. You know dat." Sketch leaned closer to the wall to hear the conversation. "I know I know ya would. I jest, I don't know where he coulda gone. He jest vanished. I know it's my fault. It's gotta be." Windy laughed. "Come on Spot! Yer da rula of Brooklyn. You have common sense an' yer sayin' dat yer kid ran off because of ya? Dat ain't right."  
  
Spot's voice tensed. "I ain't rula of Brooklyn no more Windy. Flames is." Sketch drew his breath in sharply and he slammed his fist into the wall.   
  
So, he had made his precious little boy king of Brooklyn huh? Well let him moan and groan. I ain't neva coming back. Sketch thought.   
  
"I jest need ta find him Windy. You'll tell me if ya see him." Spot said quickly. " 'Course Conlon. You know I will." Windy replied. "Thanks Windy." Spot said quietly. "No problem Conlon. Say hello ta Blue woncha?" Sketch saw his father nod as he walked away. His father wasn't the same as he had last seen him. He seemed older, his shoulders' hunched, his head hanging dejectedly. For a glistening moment, Sketch actually felt pain for his father, but he thrust it aside angrily. "He don't need me, an' I don't need him." He said angrily, slinking off into the shadows, trying to put his father's dejected form out of his mind.  
  
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	21. Painful Memories

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It was late that night before the Higgins children were finally settled down and in bed. Word had quickly spread to Manhattan that the oldest son of Spot Conlon was missing. The children had been frantic. First Pockets had dashed into the house, screaming the news that Sketch was missing, which made Sunshine faint. After she finally came around, she begged her mother to tell her that it wasn't true. When she was told that it was indeed true, she ran back to her room and didn't come out. She hadn't come out and now she was passed out, her face red and her breath coming out in quick gasps from the crying. Grabs, Fairy and Angel took it upon themselves to calm the others down, which they made sure to do.   
  
But now they were all in bed. Bright Eyes was alone. Racetrack had joined forces with a few other men that evening to scour the surrounding districts. She had given him his dinner in a pail and told him to be careful. Racetrack had cast a worried glance at his children standing a few feet away from them, then fixed his brown eyes on Bright Eyes. "You be careful. Keep da kids safe." He whispered. Then he pressed her to him, kissing her quickly, but fiercely before shouldering his pail and walking away with the others. That group included Jack Kelly and Kid Blink to name a few.   
  
Bright Eyes sat down at the table, placing her tired head in her hands. A few moments later, there was a cautious knock at the door. Bright Eyes lifted her head slightly. "Come in?" She asked quietly. The door swung open silently and the figure of Spot Conlon shone through the doorway. Bright Eyes leapt to her feet and ran to the figure. "Spot! Whatcha doin' here? Why aincha lookin' fer Sketch? Race an' da uddas went off widout ya." Bright Eyes said, ushering Spot to a chair and giving him a cup of coffee. Spot didn't respond but merely sat down and took the coffee silently. "I already went ta all da districts. It ain't no use. He ain't dere." Spot said softly.  
  
"Oh come on Spot! You cain't seaich all da districts even if ya wanted too. You kin neva git ta all da knooks an' crannies in New Yawk! Which is where Sketch is probably hidin'. Did ya aleit da boys dere?" She asked. Spot nodded dejectedly. "Yeah I did. Everyone. Dey hadn't seen him." He murmured. "Oh Spot you know dat dis stuff takes time. Soon Sketch'll slip up an' you'll find him. He cain't stay away fereva." Bright Eyes reassured him. Spot scoffed. "You tink so huh? Lemme tell you sometin' Bright Eyes. I taught dat boy ta hide from da bulls. You tink he's gonna fergit how ta hide? No, I taught him too well Bright. I ain't neva gonna find him." He insisted. "Oh shut up Spot! Don't say dat! You know all da tricks dat ya taught Sketch! Use 'em fer cryin' out loud! Don't give up!" Bright Eyes said angrily.  
  
Spot looked up at her from his coffee cup and to her surprise, smiled. "You always know how ta see reason doncha Bright? You always did do dat. I wish I was dat intuitive." He said with a smile. Bright Eyes shook her head in amazement. "You neva cease ta amaze me Spot Conlon." She said quietly. "I aim ta please." Spot retorted. They didn't speak for a short time, Bright Eyes sitting in silence, her blue eyes looking away from Spot as she pondered his words. Spot sat in silence, fingering his coffee cup. "How's ya holdin' up?" Bright Eyes looked over at Spot sharply. He was looking at her expectantly. She knew what he was talking about and she drew her breath in sharply.  
  
"Yer gittin' off da subject Conlon. We ain't tawkin' 'bout, 'bout dat." She murmured. Spot eyed her and sat back in his chair. "I asked ya a question Higgins." Bright Eyes chuckled and looked at him. "You ain't Brooklyn no more. I don't gotta listen ta ya no more Conlon." She said sarcastically. Spot rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Come on Bright. I know yer hoitin'." He said softly. Bright Eyes shook her head. "Jest don't tawk 'bout it okay. I ain't gotten ova it yet. It still hoits too much." Spot sat up. "I kin help. I know what it's like. I've lost three kids too ya know." Spot insisted. Bright Eyes raised her hand. "No. I don't wanna tawk 'bout it. Please Spot. Don't." Spot raised his hands in the air dejectedly. "Fine, if dats da way you want it."  
  
"Dats da way I want it." Bright Eyes retorted sharply. But after a moment of silence she broke out again. "Spot what's goin' on? What happened ta you an' me? What happened to our friendship? We ain't like we used ta be when we was kids. We cain't even tawk no more. Why?" She entreated. "I guess we grew outta dat." Spot commented. "Dats allotta bull Conlon! You don't grow outta friendships no matta what! An' if you do den it really wasn't one ta begin wit'!" Bright Eyes protested, slamming her fist on the table. "Well dere was anudda facta in wit' our little friendship Bright. If you recall." Spot said quietly. Bright Eyes raised her fist to strike the table again, but stopped, She slowly lowered it as she stared at Spot.  
  
"I guess ya fergot huh Bright? We was in love at one point in time. Dats probably why. Don't git me wrong, if I had ta do it all ova again, I still woulda picked Blue, but do ya eva wonda what our life woulda been like?" Spot asked quietly. "Yeah course I do. We'd have killed each udda." Bright Eyes responded quickly. Spot shook his head and chuckled. "No you don't. You obviously don't rememba it da way I do. Da only time we fought was when it was ova sometin' dat I wanted ta do fer Brooklyn, not 'bout sometin' between us." Spot answered. "Dat ain't da truth Conlon an' you know it. You was actin' like a snob when we was tegedda, an' you know it. You was gittin all hoity toity 'cause ya caught me an' I wasn't 'bout ta stand fer dat." Bright Eyes said angrily. "An' den Race came along afta ya went ta Manhattan. Yeah I know da rest. Yer nine kids in da udda room tell da rest of da story don't dey Bright?" Spot sneered.  
  
"Jest admit it Spot. You was jealous. Jealous dat I found someone an' you didn't. Oh you hid it really good Conlon. You was always good at hidin' yer feelin's but you hated dat didn't you? Dat someone like Race could come an' actually treat me like an equal an' low an' behold, marry me! You was jealous!" Bright Eyes retorted. Spot sat erect, his eyes blazing. "Yeah mebey I was. Mebey I had tought more dan once 'bout marryin' ya, but no, ya had ta fall fer Mista Gamblin' Racehorse!" Spot returned. Bright Eyes leapt to her feet. "It's Racetrack ta you Conlon! An' don't you eva say dat 'bout my husband again!" She said angrily. Spot leapt to his feet as well, his eyes blazing. "Ya know, I jest came ova here ta offa ya some comfort 'bout yer baby an' hope dat you had some comfort fer me 'bout my own kid, but dat musta been stretchin' it. I didn't mean ta git in a yellin' match wit' you of all people." Spot yelled. "Well if you hadn't insulted Race, we wouldn't be in dis predicament would we?" Bright Eyes retorted. "I don't care what you hafta say! I'm goin' home!" Spot yelled. "Fine! Go home! See if I care!" Bright Eyes yelled back.  
  
Spot stormed towards the door, threw it open, but stopped and turned around, looking back at Bright Eyes' angry form. "Did you eva tell Race 'bout us?" Bright Eyes' anger melted somewhat as she stared at him. "No. You was gittin' inta powa, I didn't wanna tech dat." She said quietly. Spot stared at her, then smiled. "Danks, fer dat. Dat, dat was good of ya." He said uneasily. He turned towards the door once more, and stopped, turning around. "I really am sorry 'bout yer baby Bright. An' I didn't mean ta hoit ya. Not back den an' not eva. I'm sorry, sorry fer dat." Spot murmured, closing the door behind him. Bright Eyes stood in shock for a few moments, before sinking down in her chair, her head in her hands. Before long, the sound of muffled crying, echoed through the Higgins home, though none of the occupants was awake to hear it.  
  
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	22. The Angel & the Wolf

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Angel crept through the streets of Manhattan. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn't help it. She was taking advantage of the chaos at home to fulfill her own desires, mainly, trying to find that boy who was starting the fires. She had to. She had been all over the districts asking people if they had seen him and she had finally gotten a hot tip from a girl who served him at a restaurant in West Side. When she finally reached West Side, it was pitch dark, usually the only time when she could prowl like this unnoticed. She looked in any alley that came in front of her, searching for that boy.   
  
Finally, she thought she saw something move on a street near her, but as she crept closer, her air was cut off when a hand clapped over her mouth. She tried to gasp, but couldn't. The hand over her mouth wouldn't let her. She struggled, trying to get air to breath. The huge hand was covering her nose as well. She couldn't breath. As she started to slip out of consciousness, the hand released her and she fell to the ground, limp and tired. She finally looked up and saw her captor. The black hair shone in the moonlight. His face was stern and unmoving. "What are you doin' back here? What are ya doin'? Followin' me?" He asked. Angel jumped to her feet, swaying somewhat. "Yeah actually. I wanted ta know who ya are an' all 'bout ya." The boy laughed. "Obviously ya must tink I'm a soft hearted fool ta fall fer a goil like you an' tell you all my secrets." He laughed.  
  
"Hey! I'm a nice lookin' goil if I do say so myself!" Angel protested. The boy smiled as he looked her over. "Yeah dat ya are. Yer right 'bout dat angel-goil." He commented. "You know dat dat's my name doncha?" Angel asked. The boy nodded. "Yeah I do. But dat doesn't mean dat I'm gonna like ya anymore. I gotta go keep watch." He said, starting to walk away. Angel grabbed his arm and he started, trying to throw her grip off on impulse. Angel looked at him surprised. He stared at her, then shook his head, trying to walk away again, but not being able to. "Please lemme go." He said quietly. Angel shook her head. "Not till you tell me who you are." Angel said. He finally turned to her, fixing his blue eyes on her. "It's Wolf okay. Now will ya let me go? I've got woik ta do." He said, pulling away from her. "Tell me 'bout you Wolf." She spoke up again.  
  
Wolf stared at her, exasperated. "Look kid, I ain't got time fer story tellin'! I gotta go on watch!" He protested. "I ain't a kid! I'm Angel! C'mon Wolf! Lemme help ya watch! I kin watch real good!" Angel insisted, following behind Wolf as he walked away. A few moments later, Wolf found himself standing in a nearby alley keeping watch with Angel by his side. She was right. She was a good look-out. For some reason, he also enjoyed telling her about the things he had done, excluding the fires and his personal life. He actually enjoyed her company. When the clock in the center of town struck eleven, Angel started. "Oh no. Me parents is gonna have a fit if I don't git back soon. I gotta run Wolf. I'm comin' temorra!" She said as she walked away. But Wolf grabbed her arm and pulled her back.   
  
"Oh no you ain't." He insisted. "Yeah I am. I wanna tawk ta ya some more. See you temorra." She said as she tried to pull away again, but he pulled her back. "I cain't have ya hangin' around. It's too much trouble an' you could git hoit." He insisted. "Aw shucks Wolf. I kin take care of meself. Temorra den." She said, jerking out of his grasp and walking away from him. Wolf shook his head, but as he did so, he smiled. "Dats one interestin' goil." He murmured to himself.  
  
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Angel returned to West Side many times in the next few weeks. During those times, she discovered that Wolf was fifteen, the same age as her twin brothers, Picks and Pockets. He had been born in Queens, but he wouldn't say anything else about his past. She finally coaxed it out of him that he was the one starting the fires. "Wolf, I saw ya okay! Ya don't need ta keep hidin' an' pretendin' like I don't know!" Angel laughed. Wolf frowned and shook his head. "Yer a piece of woik Angel. Not exactly like some of da udda goils I've known in me lifetime." Wolf said, gradually smiling. Angel smiled and rolled over on her back, looking at the stars.   
  
"You eva had a goil Wolf?" She asked quietly. Wolf started and pulled back, sitting up against the alley wall. "Naw. Neva had time." He replied. "I ain't neva had a guy neitha. I jest had crushes on 'em. Me brudda's got a goil dough. He's known her since dey was born an' she's his best friend's sista! Her name is Joy, an' she's real pretty. Grabs loves her. An' me bruddas Picks an' Pockets like Jade Conlon. Dey fight ova her all da time. An'," She said, before Wolf cut her off. "Yer bruddas like JADE Conlon? Dey like ta aim high don't dey? You know da Conlons?" Wolf asked. Angel nodded. "Oh yeah. Spot was me Mama an' Papa's friend when dey was real little. An' me sista Sunshine, she's me twin ya know, she likes Sketch Conlon. An' actually, he likes her too." She said quickly, stopping for breath.   
  
Wolf pushed his hat back on his head and whistled. "Sketch Conlon huh? Geez. I ain't neva seen him. I tought he was gonna be leada of Brooklyn dough." Wolf murmured. Angel immediately sobered. "Well, he ain't no more. His brudda Flames is leada. An' plus, he's done run off. Nobody's seen him." Angel said quietly. Wolf eyed Angel's serious face. "Why'd he run off?" He asked. Angel shrugged and played with her hair. "Nobody knows. But I ovaheid Mama tellin' Papa dat Spot tinks it's his fault fer spendin' too much time wit' Flames an' none at all wit' Sketch." She said. "That'll do it. I'd do da same ting if I was Sketch Conlon." Wolf murmured.   
  
"But what 'bout you Angel? I mean, I cain't believe dat dere's not a guy waitin' on ya somewheres. Dere's gotta be some guy who likes ya." Wolf said in a teasing tone of voice. Angel grinned. "Nope. Nobody. I like you dough Wolf. If I was gonna pick somebody, I'd make him be like you." She said easily. Wolf stared at her. "Me? Why me? I ain't nothin'." He said. "Oh but ya is. I kin tawk ta you 'bout anythin'. Everytin'. An' ya undastan'. Yer a great listener, yer good fer a joke, yer da greatest Wolf." Angel said, smiling. Wolf blushed a deep red and smiled. "Well danks I guess. I guess I'd pick someone like you too." He said in a low voice. "Ya would? Dat would be neat! We'd make such a poifect pair! But listen ta me! Tawkin' like I could eva be yer goil! Ya got so much ta do." Angel prattled, but not without a tinge of regret, Wolf noticed.   
  
"Yeah, it's a pity huh?" Wolf said. Angel nodded and stood. Wolf stood beside her and grabbed her arm before she could leave. "Angel, don't come temorra." She cocked her head to the side. "Why not?" She asked. "Jest don't Angel. I'm makin' me move. If dis woiks, it's all ova. All da fires. Everytin'." Wolf said earnestly. "Dat'll be great Wolf! But what 'bout me?" She asked. "I'll come an' see ya an' tell ya dat it's all done. Don't worry 'bout it." He laughed. "It's a pity I don't have a goil! I could ask her fer a kiss fer luck." He said, grinning broadly. A contemplative look remained on Angel's face as she quickly leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. Wolf drew back slightly, surprised. "Well you needed some good luck. No ya've got it." Angel stammered. "I gotta go." She whispered, starting to run off. Wolf grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him, kissing her gently on the cheek. "Danks." He whispered, blushing a deep red. Angel blushed as well, her hand feeling the spot on her cheek he had kissed before running off, leaving Wolf to collapse against the side of the alley and feel an emotion he thought he'd never feel again: love.  
  
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	23. Oscar Delancy

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Oscar Delancy sat in the basement of his hideout, his fingers playing with the loose metal knobs on the old desk. He worked them, twisting them till they almost fell off into his hands, then at the last minute turning them back into their rightful place. He wasn't worried about the fires taking place in Manhattan and beyond. He wasn't worried at all. There was no way that anyone, not even a little pyromaniac and his gang could know where he was. But of course, he would keep his guard up. Anyone, even a leader of an underground mafia had to do that.  
  
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	24. A Failed Mission

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Sketch walked down the street, fighting to keep his eyes open. He hadn't been able to sleep the previous night and had incidentally heard the interlude between Wolf and Angel. At first at the sound of Angel's voice, he froze, unwilling to move. But then he realized that she had no idea that he was here. She was there for Wolf. He had chuckled at the thought of tough Angel wanting to take on Wolf and the very thought of Wolf being in love was just absurd. But he was certainly acting like he was. That morning at least. But now he was not. He was focused on the task ahead, ready and willing. They were going to make rounds through a few surrounding districts surrounding Queens, that included Brooklyn. Ross had laughed at the worried look on Sketch's face and had slapped him on the back good-naturedly. "Aw, doncha worry Mike ol' boy! We'll keep Spot Conlon offa yer case!" He had laughed. Sketch had managed a weak smile, but not much else. It worried him.  
  
Finally they arrived in the dreaded district. Newsies stood on the corner calling out the headlines. He knew, he knew before they got there that Wolf was going to parade them past Jade's selling spot. He could even see her in the distance as they walked closer and closer. Suddenly, he grabbed the bowler hat off of Ross' head. Ross yelped and frowned. "Whaddya do dat fer Mike? Dat's me duds an' ya know it!" He said, making a grab for the hat. "Cool it Ross! I'll give it right back afta we pass dis goil!" Sketch hissed, plopping the hat low on his head. Ross eyed him suspicously, before his face cleared. "Oh I see! She used ta be yer goil! Ya don't want her botherin' ya is dat it? Geez ya coulda tol' me dat Mike! I'm a sucka fer guys wit' crazy ex-goils." Ross said knowingly. Sketch nodded feverishly as he made his way to the very middle of the boys so that Jade couldn't see him. He saw her falcon-like eyes scan them suspicously and he could have sworn that her eyes clapped on him for more than a second, but she looked away and he gave a sigh of relief.  
  
Jade looked back at the boys again. They were suspicious looking to her. Especially the one hiding in the middle. He looked like he was hiding. But she had no business with street urchins other than the ones she knew herself, so she dropped the matter. But it would not be dropped. It kept nagging at her brain, and it heightened as she saw Angel Higgins sneaking around in the alleys. "Whatcha doin' Higgins?" She asked. Angel stopped stiff, then turned to face her. "Nothin'. Jest, nothin'." She stuttered, trying to look at ease. "Yer followin' dem boys aincha? I know you Higgins." Jade said knowingly. Angel blushed then shrugged. "What if I am?" She asked. "I wanna go witcha." Jade said. A huge crash sounded behind them and the two girls turned to see the fallen figures of Sunshine, Cowboy, Picks, Pockets, Taps and little Ice. Actually Ice was the only one standing. Her little hands were on her face, her little mouth in an o-shape. "I'se so sorry! I didn't mean ta kick da boxes so hard! Dey jest fell down!" She said.  
  
"No kiddin' Ice. Great job. Oh! Jade! Angel! How lovely ta see ya's!" Picks stuttered as he tried to pull himself out from under the boxes. "Yeah, lovely day no?" Pockets grumbled as he pulled himself out. Finally the Higgins children untwisted themselves from the box and stood before Jade and Angel. "Was you guys followin' me?" Angel demanded. "Mebey. We wanted ta know where you was goin'." Picks explained. "Yeah. Fairy an' Grabs is gonna back us up. Dey're a few blocks behind us." Pockets said. Angel slapped her hand to her forehead. "Cain't I go nowhere widout you guys followin' me everywheres?" She asked. The others scuffled their feet in the dirt and didn't say a word. "We figured ya'd need help. Dat's all." Taps muttered. Angel shook her head. "Ya cain't come. None of ya's. I gotta do dis alone." Angel said, taking a step backwards. "Oh no ya don't! Me an' Pockets an' Cowboy an' Fairy an' Grabs is older dan ya's, so ya gotta let us go an' protect ya!" Picks protested.  
  
"Believe me, I don't need no protection! Please go home!" Angel said. Cowboy crossed his arms. "I'm against dis whole ting anyway, but da boys gots a point. We's older dan ya's an' we ain't 'bout ta let ya go alone." Cowboy said firmly. Angel threw her hands in the air. "I don't need yer help or protection! I kin protect meself! I need ta go by meself!" She protested. "Does dat mean me too Angel?" Jade asked. Angel stopped for a moment, then put her hand on Jade's shoulder. "If ya don't mind." She said quietly. Jade shrugged. "I do mind. But I don't got no choice do I?" She asked. Angel shook her head and took her leave of them, running as soon as they were out of her sight. The Higgins children and Jade stood alone in the street. Finally Picks spoke, eyeing Jade. "You tinkin' what I'm tinkin'?" He asked. Jade nodded and fingered her slingshot. "Yeah. We cain't let her go alone. Sometin's goin' on an' I don't like it." She murmured.  
  
Angel turned around the corner, screeching to a halt as she almost fell upon the boys hiding spot. They were all standing in an alley talking among themselves. Their faces were all serious, but none were so serious as Wolf's. His was focused and intense, prepared for the strike ahead. He whispered a few orders to a few of the boys, who ran out around the corner. Then he whispered to a boy with sandy blonde hair, who looked strangely familiar to Angel. The boy paled briefly then nodded, running around the corner as well. Angel shook her head and watched as Wolf and the other boys followed the others around the corner. She carefully crept to the end of the alley and watched them. They were leaving the district, going in the direction of Queens. Angel took a deep breath and followed them.  
  
By the time the group got to Queens, Angel had had several close calls. Twice, Wolf had turned around unexpectedly and Angel had had to duck in an alley. Both of those times she could have sworn that he had seen her, but she was thankful that he had not. Now the boys were in an alley, staring at a certain building. It was most obviously abandoned, the window's being covered with planks and the door practically falling off it's hinges. Wolf stared at it intently, then sent a few boys out. He soon followed. Angel crept to the end of the alley.  
  
The boys were preparing to fire the building. Wolf stood straight and tall, staring stonily at the building as if to say, "I'm gonna take ya down. No matta what." Angel held her breath as one of the boys handed Wolf a match. Wolf smiled grimly and took it, swiping it against he building. Angel could see the delicate flame burning on the end of the little match, so small, but so deadly. Wolf's eyebrows narrowed as he muttered something, before he gently stooped down and began to edge the fire close to the building.   
  
It all happened so quickly that the boys didn't know what to do. They flew into a panic as the gunshots rang out around them. They weren't playing with average street rats. This time they were playing with a fire greater than the ones they were starting. The boys ducked for cover as Angel's hand flew to her mouth in shock. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to face Jade Conlon, who's green eyes flashed with fury. "Stupid fools. Dey're gonna git it now. Help me out Higgins." She muttered, tossing her Sunshine's slingshot. Angel looked at her questioningly. "Sunny didn't want ta. I know what yer tinkin' Higgins. How can we take 'em out wit' jest dese tings? We cain't. But we kin confuse 'em a bit. Yer bruddas is on da south side waitin' fer me signal." Jade explained quickly.   
  
She and Angel fixed the slingshots till they were ready, then Jade grabbed a red handkerchief out of her pocket and waved it out of the alley frantically. Instantly, the men in the windows began to grasp at their faces as the marbles shot out from all directions. This gave the boys below a chance to scurry for cover. Angel watched with anguish as the boy's limped to the alley, and some boys half carried their comrades. Some of the boys managed to get into the alley that the girls were in and as soon as they reached safety, they collapsed onto the dirty ground, their faces twisted in pain. Angel ceased firing and sat down on the ground beside one of the boys, a grubby Italian, who's face was contorted greatly as he clutched the bloody hole in his dirty pants.   
  
Jade fired on final shot before joining Angel on the ground. "What's yer name kid?" Angel asked the Italian. He looked at her with pain-glazed brown eyes. "Me, me, name? Ross. What happened out dere? Everytin' was goin' accordin' ta plan. What happened?" He murmured. "Ya got busted. Jest like I knew ya would. Stupid kid, tryin' ta take on Osca Delancy. Yer leada's a fool too." Jade said angrily. Ross' head snapped to attention as his furious brown eyes clapped on Jade. "He ain't a fool! He's doin' what he tinks is right!" He said angrily, trying to get up from his spot on the ground. Jade pressed her hand firmly against his chest, pushing him down. "Don't git all flustery on me Ross. It's okay. I take most of it back. Yer leada's jest doin' whats in his best interest, even if it means gittin' ya killed." She said quietly. Ross sat back against the alley wall, somewhat calmer, but still upset.  
  
The girls looked up as a tall boy staggered into the alley, another boy practically draped over his back. Angel's breath caught in her throat as she saw the dangling, lifeless face. "Wolf." She whispered as she jumped to her feet. Quincy stood still, panting in order to catch his breath. Jade walked over to him and stretched out her hands. Quincy eyed her momentarily, but a raised eyebrow from Jade made him comply. He carefully slipped the body into her arms and she laid him down against the wall. Angel turned around as the sound of panting again came to her ears. This time it was her brothers. Grabs, Picks, Pockets, Cowboy and Taps stood in front of her, staring at the boys lying in the alley. Grabs whistled as he looked at them. "Higgins." At the sound of Jade's voice, all the Higgins boys snapped to attention. She stood up. "Dese kids need some help. We need a docta." She said firmly. Taps scoffed. "C'mon Jade. Who's gonna help a buncha street rats?" He asked. Jade's green eyes narrowed. "On Fort road. Dere's a docta dat'll do it. It's in da centa of Brooklyn. Go git him. Docta Michaels." She called after him. Taps scoffed again as he started out. "Geez Jade! I know where Fort street is! Ya'd tink I'se jest a baby!" He muttered as he disappeared around the corner.  
  
"How do ya know he'll help us Jade?" Angel asked incredulously, her hand slightly touching Wolf's outstretched one. "Cuz he's done it before. He kinda takes care of da underlings of dis place. Even takes care of most of da sweatshop injuries. He'll help us." Jade said firmly. Angel stared at Wolf's unconcious face, then looked up at Cowboy. "Is dere anymore? Dere's only four here. Dere's eight of 'em." She said. "I dunno Angel. Dere might be some in anudda alley not far from here. Picks an' Pockets go look." Cowboy ordered, his brothers running off quickly. Angel jumped as one of the boys sat straight up and yelled. "Where's me brudda? He was right behind me! Oh God if anytin' happens ta him I'll neva fergive meself! Where is he?" He shouted, his blue eyes darting around the alley.  
  
"Take it easy. What's yer brudda's name?" Angel asked quietly, eyeing the peculiar snake-like design of freckles on the boy's pale face. "It's Spida. I need ta find him!" Snake said in a panicked tone of voice. "It's okay. Me bruddas went afta da uddas. Dey'll find him." She said reassuringly. Suddenly, a groan brought Angel to the side of Wolf. As his bright blue eyes opened and focused on her face, he smiled faintly. "Glad ya decided ta disobey." He said quietly. Angel smiled. "You know me." She answered. He chuckled then sobered. "I almost had him Angel. I almost had him." He murmured. Angel's face sobered and she gently pressed a kiss on his pale forehead.  
  
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	25. A Connection

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Wolf sat back in his cot, somewhat more alert than he had been in the last couple hours. The doctor had told him of his injuries, gunshot wounds to the chest and left arm. But he said they should heal in time, but to do no strenuous action that might strain their recovery. Wolf scoffed and narrowed his eyes. "Ain't no way I'm gonna take dat. I got a job ta do. I ain't 'bout ta let no docta tell me what ta do." He muttered. He looked up as an Italian boy came and sat down beside him, looking somewhat uneasy. "Hey. I'se Grabs Higgins. I'm Angel's brudda." He said uneasily, sticking out his palm. Wolf took it and shook it, then withdrew his hand. "Where's Angel?" He asked. Grabs smiled and shrugged. "She went back ta sell some papes. She needed some cash. She asked me ta stay witcha." Grabs said. Wolf nodded and looked away.  
  
"So, why ya doin' dis?" Grabs asked. Wolf looked at him suspiciously. "Whaddya mean? Why'm I doin' dis? 'Cause I want ta! Isn't dat good enough?" He asked, his voice rising. "Not really no. Ya jest don't git ready ta set a buildin' on fire an' den git 'most all yer boys killed. Dat ain't good enough Wolf." Grabs said firmly. Wolf threw his hands in the air and was silent before he spoke again. "Revenge." He said quietly. Grabs looked at him curiously. "What?" He asked. "Revenge. It's fer revenge." Wolf repeated. "I need ta kill Osca Delancy fer sometin' he did ta me a long time ago." He said quietly. Grabs sat back in his chair. "You wanna tell me 'bout it?" He asked. Wolf shook his head. "You wouldn't undastand." He said. Grabs shook his head. "I dunno 'bout dat. Osca ain't been an angel ta me eida." Grabs urged. Wolf took a deep breath and sighed.  
  
"He killed me fadda." Wolf started quietly. "Killed him in cold blood. I was only a kid den. I rememba da kids from Queens comin' back an' tellin' me an' me Mama dat he was dead. Tellin' him dat dey jest shot him from behind, no reason whatsoeva." Wolf whispered, his fists clenching. Grabs sat erect. "You say Queens?" He asked. Wolf nodded. "Yeah. Me fadda was da leada of Queens. He was one of da best rula's dey eva had. People still tawk 'bout him too. He was da best." Wolf said proudly, his eyes lighting up. "What's yer Papa's name?" Wolf frowned at the whisper in which Grabs spoke and the pale look on his face. "Archer. Why? Ya look like yer gonna hurl." He said pointedly.  
  
Grabs bent over, breathing deeply. "I think I might." Wolf waited a few moments for Grabs to speak. "I was dere. I warned yer fadda dat Osca was makin' trouble. Couple minutes lata, he got shot. I got shot too. Still got da scar." Grabs said quietly. Wolf's eyebrows narrowed. "I cain't believe dat. Lemme see da scar." He said. Grabs shrugged and pulled up his shirt, showing the slight, almost skid-like mark on the side of his chest. Wolf sat back against his pillow. "Well I'll be da-, I'm sorry Grabs. I neva trust no one. I had ta ask." He said, his voice a mask of disbelief.   
  
After a few moments, Wolf spoke again. "Did he go quick? No one neva would tell me." He asked quietly. "Pretty quick. He tried ta warn me too. Right before he died. It was probably 'cause of him dat I didn't die." Grabs replied. "Dat was da buildin' where it happened wasn't it Wolf?" Grabs asked. Wolf nodded. "Kin ya leave me alone fer a bit Grabs? I jest wanna be alone." He said, almost in a whisper. Grabs stood up. "Sure, I kin. I undastan'." He said as he walked away. "Grabs." At the sound of Wolf's voice, Grabs turned. "Danks." Wolf said. Grabs smiled and nodded before turning and walking away again. Wolf lay his head back against the pillows and turned his face to the wall so as not to let his boys see his tears.  
  
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	26. Sketch

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Sketch peered around the corner of the boxes he had hidden behind that afternoon. It was evening now. He hadn't been hurt in the fusillade of gunshots, but had crawled away to safety. He had felt bad as he'd crawled away, but Wolf's voice echoed in the back of his head saying, "Everybody's gotta take care of hisself. Even if it's hard. Dat's jest what ya's gotta do." Sketch crawled behind the boxes and collapsed, his muscles aching from the adrenaline that had been racing through his body a moment before. He had tensed again as the Higgins boys came around to help the other members of the gang to safety. He had longed to shout out to them that he was behind the boxes and he was safe, but he didn't dare. As long as the boys didn't talk about him then he was alright. But otherwise, things might be different. The Higgins might come after him, as well as his sister. He didn't want that.   
  
He didn't want her ruining everything. His sister had the most incredible sense of intuition. She could sense him a mile away most of the time. Her eyes could search anyone out that she was searching for. It would be a piece of cake for her to find him. But that was only if Sketch didn't outsmart her. That was not an option. He WOULD outsmart her. He could do it. He had to.  
  
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	27. Angel, Jade, and Kellys

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The next day Angel nearly dropped the glass of water she was carrying when she saw Wolf standing in front of her, fully clothed, the sling still wrapped protectively around his left arm, his right arm setting his cap on his black hair, wincing as he bent down to tie his shoes. Behind him, standing nervously, were Snake and Spider, Slick, Raven, and Ross, leaning slightly on the tall Quincy. "What da heck does ya tink yer doin'?" Angel asked in disbelief. "Gonna go finish what I stawted. Good ting dey didn't take out me shootin' arm huh?" He asked with a smile.  
  
Angel stormed over to him, her face red and angry. "Yer such an' idiot! You really tink you kin take him out afta dis?" She hissed. "Yeah actually I do. Ya kin tank yer brudda fer it too." Wolf answered easily. Angel was taken aback. "Me, me brudda?" She asked. "Yeah. He was da one dat tol' me 'bout da secret entrance inta da buildin' from da alley." Wolf said calmly, starting to walk away. Angel placed her hand on his chest, lessening pressure as Wolf winced. "Ya cain't do dis. Yer gonna kill yer boys. Look at 'em! Snake an' Spida jest got a bullet taken outta dey're legs! Same ting fer Ross! Raven got one dug outta his shoulda, an' Slick, Slick got one dug outta his foot! An' you, you got a bullet to da chest an' ta da left arm an' ya tink yer gonna let me let ya go? Are ya stupid?" She stormed.  
  
Wolf smiled gently and placed his right hand on her face. "Yer so pretty when yer angry." He whispered. Angel blushed and turned her face away. "I tink you'll let me go, 'cause ya know I've gotta. Right?" Angel thought a moment, then nodded. "Don't worry. Dis'll woik. I know it will. Yer brudda's a great schema." He said quietly. "Lemme go witcha. Me an' me bruddas an' sistas. An' Jade too. She'll wanna help." Angel said determinedly. Wolf raised his eyebrows and glanced at his boys, then back at Angel. "I need ta do dis alone." He said. "But last time," Angel protested before Wolf placed his hand on her mouth. "Last time was a mistake. I ain't makin' no mistakes dis time. See ya." Wolf said firmly, but gently, giving her a small peck on the cheek as he brushed past her, motioning to his boys. The boys walked, some limped and leaned on another boy, but all the same, walked out of the building. Angel shook her head. "We gotta follow 'em. Dey cain't do it alone, no matta what Wolf says." She murmured. "An' if we do, we're in big trouble." Jade pointed out. Angel grinned as Jade's eyes began to twinkle. "An' I jest love gittin' in trouble." Jade said, a smile spreading over her lips.  
  
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Angel and Jade quickly slunk back to the alley where they had sat with the wounded boys only a few days before. As they made their way to the entrance of the alley, a small cough made them whirl around. They had expected a policeman or one of Wolf's gang, asking them what they were doing slinking about alleys. But what stood in front of them was two boys. Dodger and Falcon Kelly stood in front of them, Dodger's eyes fixed on them, Falcon's arms crossed cockily across his chest giving them a look reminicent of his father, Jack Kelly. "An' jest whaddya tink yer doin'?" Dodger asked. Angel smiled at Jade and put on her best secretive look. "Dodger Kelly. Yer far from home aincha?" She asked hintingly.  
  
"We ain't gotta listen ta nobody Angel. We goes where we pleases." Falcon put in, his green eyes sparkling. "Dats mighty big tawk fer a four year old." Jade said with a smile. Falcon immediately puffed up his chest. "I may be small, but I kin fight. Fight real good. You seen me Angel." He protested. Jade grinned and shook her head. "Whaddya want you guys?" She asked. "We wanna make ya an' offa. Ya kin have our assistance in whateva yer 'bout ta do fer only half of what yer gittin' outta it." Dodger said seriously. Angel eyed him, her eyebrows raised. Jade laughed loud and hard. "Yeah right! Ya tink we's gonna take on little kids ta do doity woik?" She asked.   
  
Dodger shook his head as Falcon's eyes flashed. "We's makin' ya's a good propastion Angel. But I'll woik witcha. How 'bout seventy-thoity?" He asked. Angel's eyes twinkled as she realized what Dodger was doing. "Naw, too high Kelly, too high. Sixty-forty?" She offered. Dodger shook his head. "Not good enough. Seventy-sixty an' dats me final offa." Dodger said firmly. Angel eyed Jade who nodded slowly. "Okay Kelly, ya gots a deal. What kin ya do best?" Angel asked.   
  
Dodger breathed a sigh of relief, then put a serious expression on his face. "Well, me an' Falcon kin hide real good. We's good at hidin' in da shadows. An' we kin also make a scene so ya kin git ta where ya need ta." Dodger said seriously. "Yeah but kin ya git outta da way fast enough? We're tawkin' guys wit' guns here kid. Dis ain't gonna be no rompin' on da playgroun' here dis ain't." Jade said warningly. Falcon waved her warnings aside. "We kin handle it. We kin git outta anytin'. We ain't Kelly's fer nothin'." Falcon said proudly. Angel looked at Jade. "Well Conlon?" She asked. Jade smiled and turned to the boys. "Well Higgins, I tink we's got a deal. Okay kids, here's what ya do." Jade leaned down and whispered the plans in their ears.  
  
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	28. Trapped

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Wolf slipped into the alley that lead into the basement of Oscar's hideout. He was grateful for Grabs telling him about the secret passageway. It would help him immensely. His arm would give him trouble, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He had placed lookouts, the boys who had hurt their legs, all around the vicinity. They were to whistle if anything went wrong. But now it was only him, Quincy and Raven. He didn't like that. He wished he had more backup. What he wished was that Mike was there. "Dang Mike!" Wolf swore. "He would run out on us just as," Wolf stopped midsentence as a box fell behind him. He whirled around to face Sketch, who was laying on the ground in front of him.   
  
Wolf's face relaxed and he smiled. "Dang Mike! It's 'bout time you showed up! Please tell me you ain't gimped up 'cause I've already got enough lookouts!" Wolf said. Sketch grinned and stood up. "No worries Wolf. I'm jest fine." Sketch said reassuringly. "Well dats good 'cause I ain't. An' I know dat dis arm is gonna interfere. Same ting wit' ol' Raven ova dere. His shoulda ain't gonna like him none afta dis. You an' Quincy's da only ones dat made it outta dere widout a scratch. I wonda if mebey you two was behind all dat." Wolf said, his face suddenly serious. Sketch began to stutter, but only after he was nudged playfully by Quincy, did he notice the twinkle in Wolf's eye. "Oh yeah Wolf. Me an' Quincy was da mastaminds behind da whole ting!" He said with a smile.   
  
Wolf waved his hand at them. "Ah shudup. Let's git dis done." Wolf said quietly, turning back towards the door. "But Wolf! Whats da plan?" Sketch asked frantically. Wolf turned around slowly. "Da plan is ta let me do da tawkin'. You folla my lead. An' you let me do da woik. Only cova fer me when I needs ya. I gotta do dis on me own. Got dat?" Wolf asked, his face suddenly serious. Sketch nodded and placed his hand over the bulge his slingshot made in his pocket. Finally the small band stepped through the doorway. Once inside, Wolf turned to them. "Now Grabs tol' me how ta git through here so you kin folla me. Try ta rememba too if we git lost, 'cause we cain't afford gittin' lost." Wolf said. Sketch looked around him in amazement as they tiptoed through the halls. He knew this place. He remembered. After Grabs had been shot, he had gone inside the building. He wanted to find the person that had done it, even though it was against his father's strict orders. He had had a near run-in with Oscar inside. Sketch knew where he would be.  
  
"Wolf." He whispered. Wolf turned around, exasperation written on his face. "What now Mike?" He hissed. "I been here before. I tink I know where Osca is gonna be." The expression on Wolf's face was one of stunned amazement. "What?" He whispered. "I know where he is." Sketch repeated. "Lemme lead Wolf." Sketch whispered earnestly. Wolf stared at him, then eyed Quincy and Raven before nodding. Sketch stepped in front of them and motioned them to follow him. They tiptoed through the halls, pressing themselves into the shadows when they heard footsteps other than their own. When the coast was clear they proceeded on.   
  
Finally Sketch found himself outside a familiar dimly lit office room. He stood still before Wolf pushed in front of him, his eyes blazing. Before he put his hand on the door-knob, his hand momentarily rested on Sketch's shoulder. "Danks fer what you done Mike. Danks." He said softly. Sketch nodded and Wolf took his hand and placed it on the knob. A moment later he had jerked open the door and stepped into the room. The amazement on Oscar Delancy's face was enough of a reward for Sketch to last him a lifetime. Behind him stood a man equally surprised, whom he recognized from his father's vivid descriptions as Oscar's brother Morris. Wolf grinned and made his way to the front of the desk. Quincy and Raven backed him up, but Mike stayed close to the shadows for fear that Oscar would recognize him. He had seen him more than once.   
  
Wolf didn't speak, but the pure pleasure on his face was evident, and it increased as he drew a pistol out of his pocket, pointing it straight at Oscar's stunned face. "Yer gonna pay fer all da stuff you done Osca Delancy. You killed too many people fer yer own good." He said harshly. Oscar's surprise faded away momentarily. "Oh really. Who's ya ta say dat dey didn't desieve it?" He asked. "I know dey didn't 'cause me fadda neva did nothin' wrong in his life. Believe me Osca, you don't wanna mess wit' me." Wolf hissed.   
  
Suddenly there was a flick of Wolf's wrist and a moment later a shot rang out as Oscar grasped his wrist, blood spurting from between his fingers. "I tol' ya not ta mess wit' me. Now yer gonna git it." Wolf said proudly. To the boys' surprise, between the pain on his face, Oscar was smiling. "Yer good kid. But you ain't dat good." The hand that had formerly rested on his shattered wrist, flew to his side and another gunshot rang out. Wolf grasped his shoulder, his eyes wide with pain. "I woulda tought it was obvious dat you don't mess wit' me." Oscar said.  
  
Wolf's eyes were wide with pain as the blood slowly seeped through his fingers. Quincy grabbed the gun from the floor and aimed it, but Wolf's hand came down on it. "Not yet." He whispered, pushing the pistol down. "You really are stupid." Oscar said cooly. "Oh yeah? An' yer not? You didn't expect dat I'd shoot ya!" Wolf yelled angrily. Oscar shrugged his shoulders and pulled out his pistol. "Now you'll see what becomes of guys who mess with me." Oscar said, his eyes wide with evil pleasure. Sketch couldn't take it any longer. He stood in front of Oscar and glared at him. Oscar's uninjured hand, clutched the table as he stared at the boy in front of him. "What the? How in the world did you bunch of street rats get a Conlon on your side?" Oscar whispered, his eyes fixed on Sketch's determined face. Wolf looked at Oscar as if he was crazy. "What are you tawkin' 'bout? Dis ain't a Conlon! He's Mike Hansen." Wolf said.  
  
Oscar shook his head and stood up. "You are so stupid. Doncha know nothin'? Dats Sketch Conlon. I shoulda done away wit' yer fadda when I had da chance ta. Yer fadda an' his whole family. Why I had ta focus on the Higgins last time, I dunno. It woulda been sheer genius if I had just stuck wit' da Conlons an' get ta Bright Eyes dat way. How could I have been so stupid?" Oscar yelled angrily, slamming the table for emphasis. Wolf looked at Oscar then turned to Sketch. "Yer Sketch Conlon?" He whispered in disbelief. Sketch looked away from him. "Yeah. I am." Sketch answered. Wolf's face paled as Oscar laughed loudly. "This is perfect! I have da oldest kid of Brooklyn! I kin do whateva I want 'cause right about now yer fadda's ready ta do anytin' ta git his precious baby boy back." Oscar sneered. Sketch's head shot up. "Whaddya mean?" He whispered. "He'll do anytin'. An' now I'll take advantage of Spot Conlon's only weakness. His kids." Oscar hissed.  
  
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	29. Revelations

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A half hour later, Oscar Delancy looked at the boys whom he had tied to chairs in the darkest corner of the office, with a large grin. "I jest sent my men ta tell yer fadda dat I gots ya here. He'll be here any minute I kin guarantee ya." He said happily. "Why me? What do you want so bad here in New Yawk? Why cain't ya go somewhere else?" Sketch yelled angrily. Oscar shrugged and sat down at his desk. "Well dose are a lotta questions kid, but I'll try ta answer 'em. I'm usin' you ta git rid of all of ya dat I shoulda got rid of in da foist place. Gittin' rid of da Conlons an' dis kid here, is da best plan I've had in a long time. Second of all, I got plans fer New Yawk. Big ones. Thoidly, I don't got connections anywhere else. But back ta da beginnin', why in da woild is a kid like dat runnin' afta me? What did I do?" Oscar asked Sketch, pointing a long finger in Wolf's direction.   
  
Wolf's blue eyes blazed and he wriggled in his bonds. "You killed me fadda! Dats why!" He hissed angrily. For the second time that day, Sketch saw surprise enter Oscar Delancy's eyes. But the emotion soon exited, replaced by cold indifference. "So? I kill lotsa people. Someone killed my kid too. You tink I kin do anytin' 'bout dat?" Oscar asked. "Dere's a difference! Da guy who killed yer kid probably had a reason! You killed me fadda in cold blood ta show yer powa! Dat ain't right an' it ain't fair! 'Specially not when ya shoot 'im in da back!" Wolf spluttered angrily. Oscar began to shake his head then stopped short. Gradually he lifted his finger in Wolf's direction. "Who da heck are ya?" He asked quietly. Sketch watched as Wolf lifted his head proudly as he spoke. "I'm Wolf Archer, son of James Edward Archer, forma leada of Queens."   
  
Oscar took a step backward, motioning to one of his men and whispering anxiously in his ear. The man quickly exited, leaving the boys alone with Oscar Delancy. "So yer Archer's kid huh? I knew he did, but you was sometin' of a legend. No one eva really saw ya." Oscar said cooly, his fingers playing with the trigger of his pistol. "Dats because me Mama wanted ta keep me home. She wanted ta keep me away from everytin' outside. I didn't do nothin' fer a livin'. It was me Papa bein' leada an' makin' money on papes an' me Mama woikin' in a sweatshop. I stayed at home all da time. Afta Papa died, Mama near went crazy. She got killed in a sweatshop fire afta dat." Wolf said quietly, his voice coming down from it's angry crecendo.  
  
"So, what happened afta dat? Yer boys look surprised aincha neva tol' dem any of dis?" Oscar asked with a sneer. Wolf turned to look at Quincy and Raven wearily and shook his head. "No neva. Dey jest accepted me plans an' didn't question. Dey're good. Dey're only part of da best gang I eva had." Wolf stopped a moment to clear his throat. "Afta everyin', I finally came outta da house, I was so hungry. So I went ta da Lodgin' House an' some of me fadda's friends put me up an' gave me sometin' ta eat. I lived dere until I figured I could take care of meself. I was only six den. When I was 'bout eleven I quit da Lodgin' House an' took ta livin' alone. I made my way. Till now. I'd been plannin' till now. Do ya know what dat plan was Osca?" Wolf sneered. Oscar shrugged his shoulders.   
  
"Ta kill da guy dat killed me fadda." Wolf hissed. "Ain't dat nice." Oscar commented. Wolf shook his head angrily. "So I got meself a gang. Da best gang in alla New Yawk. We been boinin' down yer hidin' places, hopin' dat mebey we'd strike lucky an' you'd be in one of 'em." Wolf said. Oscar frowned. "Yeah ya little tweip. Boinin' down all me hidin' spots. Now I ain't got nowhere ta go." He said. "Dat was da point Osca." Wolf remarked sarcastically. "Well dat makes me mad. You know what happens when people make me mad?" Oscar asked, standing from his sitting position on the desk, the pistol in his hands. "Lemme guess. Ya shoot 'em in da back an' leave 'em fer somebody else ta bury?" Wolf asked sarcastically. "Dats 'bout da size of it. I cain't afford ta let any of ya's go. You'll blab. Unlike udda normal people, you street rats an' Newsies got some sense. Amazin', 'specially fer Newsies." Oscar scoffed.  
  
"But fer now da only problem is who am I gonna take out foist. Decisions, decisions." Oscar said, beginning to pace around the four boys. "Mebey, I could jest take out you Conlon. Den yer fadda wouldn't hafta worry 'bout nothin' no more." Oscar said, pressing the pistol up against the boy's blonde head. Sketch didn't flinch, merely held himself straight and proud, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. Oscar eyed him, then removed the pistol, sticking it suddenly against Wolf's head. "Or mebey you. Den yer boys would have no leada. Boo-hoo." Oscar scoffed. Wolf held his head erect and gritted his teeth angrily. "Jest do what yer gonna do an' git it ova wit'." Wolf muttered. "Oh I will, in good time." Oscar murmured.  
  
Suddenly a commotion from the hall startled the five in the room, making them all jump. Oscar frowned and walked towards the door muttering. As his hand settled on the doorknob, the door was flung open, smacking Oscar in the face. Oscar swore angrily, then cast his angry eyes on his brother. "Morris! What's goin' on out there?" He yelled. "I ain't sure meself Oscar. But sometin's happenin'. It's a jail break." Morris stuttered. Oscar looked back at the boys, who were watching him anxiously. "How many are dere?" Oscar asked thoughtfully. "I'd say about fifty. Dats about how much noise dey're makin'."   
  
Oscar's eyes widened. "Fifty? Fifty kids? How in da heck did Conlon git fifty kids?" Oscar muttered. Morris shook his head. "Spot ain't dere. It's jest kids." Morris said seriously. Oscar shook his head. "I'll jest hafta handle dis meself. C'mon Morris." Oscar said, picking up his pistol with his good hand. Morris frowned and looked back at the boys. "What about dem?" Oscar turned around, looked at the boys, then at Morris with a shrug. "We'll handle da udda problem foist. Dese guys cain't git out. If dey do, dey're smarter den I thought. C'mon." He said, motioning to the door. Oscar stood listening in the doorway for a moment, before dashing into the hall, Morris following closely behind him.  
  
As soon as they left, the boys began wiggling in their bonds, trying to find a loose end. But almost as soon as the heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, the door burst open again. The boys' heads came up anxiously and at the sight in the doorway, their mouths hung open. Angel rushed into the room to Wolf, clawing at his bonds feverishly. Jade stood in the doorway, staring, shock on her face for the first time. Angel looked back at her questioningly, but Jade didn't respond. Instead she walked over to the boys till she stood right in front of Sketch. She stared at him, her green eyes penetrating his blue ones. "I thought dat you was smarta dan dis. Gitting caught by Osca Delancy." She said quietly.  
  
Surprise flickered in Sketch's eyes for a moment before he shrugged. "Ain't my fault. Thought everytin' was good." He said nonchalantly. "You join up wit' dese guys or sometin'?" Jade asked, nodding at Wolf, Quincy, and Raven. Sketch nodded. Angel looked at Sketch, happy he was found, but her eyes chanced to glimpse Jade's stone face. She quickly looked back down at the knots. Jade stared at Sketch a moment more before dropping to her knees and undoing the bonds. Sketch closed his eyes and listened to her harsh breathing. With every knot she untied, her breath came out quicker and harsher. "You angry?" The question was small and was barely heard, but Jade heard it, and she raised her face. "You tink I'm angry? No I ain't angry. I'm furious. I'm hoit an' I'm frankly ready ta disown ya right now." Jade replied fiercely. Sketch nodded. "I know. So why are ya helpin' me?" He asked quietly. Jade dropped her head and worked on the knots. " 'Cause yer me brudda. Leada of Brooklyn or not. Yer still me brudda an' I still love ya." Jade answered gruffly. "Well tank God fer dat." Sketch said softly, a smile on his face. Jade shook her head as the last knot came untied.  
  
After the rest of the boys were untied, they stood uneasily. "So how in da woild did you git Osca an' Morris ta tink dat dere was 'bout fifty kids here?" Sketch asked, rubbing his sore wrists. "Easy. You git kids who, when dey make alotta racket, make it sound like dere's fifty kids." Angel said simply. "What Higgins is tryin' ta say is dat we had some help. We got da two Kelly boys, Taps an' Ice, an' Marbles, Flames, Mouse, Ace an' Trouble." Jade said simply. Sketch stared at her wide-eyed. "You mean ta tell me dat our brudda's is out dere? Don't dey know what dey're dealin' wit'?" Jade laughed. "Flames is so excited ta be leadin' his foist campaign as leada of Brooklyn dat he's 'bout ta wet his pants. He don't care who he's up against, jest so long as he comes outta it successfully." Jade said with a smile.  
  
Sketch's face sobered. "Well dats nice. Lets git outta here." He said stonily, heading for the door. The group slipped out the door and began to run up the hall. The door was in sight when a voice behind them called out, "Okay, hold it right dere. You ain't goin' nowhere. Not now anyway." The group turned around slowly to face Oscar Delancy, his wrist hanging limply at his side, his other arm holding his pistol high. Jade leaned over slightly. "Wolf, you run fer it. Don't look back alright. We'll handle dis. Go git me fadda an' da Higgin's parents. We need 'em. Go now." She whispered. Wolf's eyes widened. "I ain't goin' nowhere! I cain't leave ya alone!" He whispered. "You go now! Yer hoit! You cain't do nothin' right now except dis. Now do it! We'll be fine!" Jade hissed, her eyes spitting fire. Wolf eyed them, then ran quickly towards the door. Oscar yelled angrily and began to fire on him, but the bullets hit the door as it swung shut behind the gang leader.  
  
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	30. Help from Brooklyn

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Spot Conlon sat alone on the dock, his gray eyes piercing the watery depths. He had never ever felt truly alone like this, not since Bright Eyes had left years earlier. His children were gone, out to sell their papers they had said, all save his youngest child Gabriel. Still a newborn, Gabriel hadn't shown what attribute that would give him a Newsie name. But Spot didn't care. That morning he had held his youngest son in his arms, looked into the baby's large, knowing gray eyes and had cried. He had cried. He, Spot Conlon. He had held his son to his chest as he cried silently. And his son, he felt as though his son knew his pain, for his small fist stretched around his father's broad shoulder and patted his back gently, with small feathery pats.   
  
"Spot. I need ta tawk ta ya." Spot cleared the tears that had welled up in his eyes and jumped to his feet, turning. Bright Eyes stood in front of him uneasily, her hands stuck in her pockets. Spot stared at her. Her attire had changed, her hat that she always wore as a Newsie was on her head, making her childhood face peek out of her eyes at the former Brooklyn leader. "What are you doin' Bright?" Spot asked quietly. "I wanna apologize." She said quietly. "Fer what? You ain't done nothin' ta me." Spot said, turning away from her. Bright Eyes walked in front of him, forcing him to look at her. "No I did. I hoit you. Da udda night I mean. An' I need ta tell you dat I'm gonna tell Race. 'Bout us before." She said hesitantly. Spot nodded. "Well ya ceitanly took long enough 'bout it. I mean, even Blue knows." He said smoothly.   
  
Bright Eyes blushed and nodded. "I shouldn't have kept it from him so long." She murmured. "No kiddin'. 'Specially since practically all yer friends an' mine know 'bout it." Spot said. "Who?" Bright Eyes asked incredulously. "Jest fer instance, Jack Kelly. He's known 'bout it since it happened an' he ain't told Race yet." Bright Eyes nodded. "Good ol' Kelly. What am I gonna say Spot?" She whispered. Spot's sober face melted somewhat and he put his hand gently on her cheek. "Jest what happened. If he really loves ya, den it shouldn't be a problem. An' I know he loves ya." Spot said gently. Bright Eyes smiled and her hand fingered the large fingers resting on her cheek. "Spot, I didn't mean what I said, dat when you said dat if we had gotten tegedda, we woulda been misreable. We probably woulda woiked it out. Mebey we coulda even been happy." Spot smiled. "I dunno Bright. We was both really stubborn back den." He said warningly.  
  
"Yeah, but we still are now." Bright Eyes countered. Spot laughed long and hard as Bright Eyes grinned. "It'll all woik out Spot. Everytin'. Sketch'll come back. I know it." Bright Eyes whispered. "Bright Eyes! Hey Bright! Spot! I need ya!" Bright Eyes turned around quickly to face Racetrack, who came running up fast, a boy following close behind. "We got trouble." Racetrack panted. Spot grinned. "Whassa matta Race? You gittin' old?" He asked. Racetrack looked up and there was laughter in his brown eyes. "Well I ain't DAT old." He said.   
  
The boy beside Racetrack spoke up anxiously. "We gotta head back ta Queens! Dere's trouble! Everybody's in trouble! Angel an' Jade an', an' Sketch!" He said hurriedly. Spot's face paled and he grasped the boy by the shoulders. "Did you say Sketch? Sketch Conlon?" He whispered. "Yeah! Jade sent me ta git ya! Both of ya's! But ya gotta hurry 'cause Osca's gonna blow dey're brains out if we don't hurry I jest know it!" He yelled. "How do ya know our kids?" Bright Eyes asked. "I jest do. Yer dawta's been followin' me aroun'. Tryin' ta git me ta stop doin' what I'm doin'. You got a right stubborn goil you do." The boy said incriminatingly. "Yeah, she gets it from her mudda." Racetrack said quietly, a smile playing about his lips. Bright Eyes frowned and punched his arm. "What's yer name kid?" She asked.   
  
"It's Wolf. C'mon we gotta go! Now! I know where it is!" Bright Eyes turned to Spot. "You up to it?" Spot straightened his shoulders. "I'm up ta anytin', jest so long as I git my kid back." He said firmly. Racetrack nodded and began to talk to the boy on directions as the group began to run in the direction of Queens. "What 'bout Blue?" Bright Eyes asked. Spot shook his head. "I don't tink she'd leave Gabriel. 'Sides, I don't want her to." He said. "What 'bout Race?" Spot asked. Bright Eyes eyed him, then looked away. "It'll hafta wait." She said quietly.  
  
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	31. A Fair Fight

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Sketch raised his hands in the air. "Look Osca, if you'se is gonna fight us, fight fair! Wolf was da one wit' da gun. Now he's gone an' yer da only one wit' one. You was on da streets long enough ta know dat dis here ain't a fair fight. C'mon, I know ya kin be reasonable 'bout dis." Sketch said firmly. Oscar eyed him and the gun lowered a half inch. "So what if I kin be reasonable? What den? What would you suggest?" He asked. Sketch looked back at Jade, who nodded. "We want it ta be a fair fight. Wit' fists. No weapons." He said. Oscar laughed harshly. "In case ya haven't noticed, yer little leada blew me arm out. An' plus dey'res more of you'se dan me." He said sarcastically. Sketch nodded and took a step forward. "C'mon Osca, you ain't foolin' me. I know you got yer cronies hidden all ova da place. Let dem do da fightin' fer ya." Oscar laughed, and this time it was void of harshness. "Yer smart kid. I'll give ya dat." He said, snapping his fingers. At the sound, men seemed to leak out of the very walls, surrounding the group. Sketch furrowed his eyebrows as he heard Jade suck in her breath.   
  
"Okay den Osca. If dats da way ya want it. But make sure dat dey git rid of dey're weapons. No tricks. Dis is gonna be a fair fight." Sketch said firmly. Oscar raised his eyebrows and nodded to the men behind him. The men eyed him, but still tossed their weapons aside. Sketch watched them as they did so. They weren't only men, teenage boys were also mixed in among them, many no older than Sketch, but still as determined. Finally when all the weapons lay in a large pile on the floor, Oscar nodded at Sketch. "You ready ta duke dis out?" He asked quietly. Sketch turned around to glance at his companions. Quincy and Raven nodded, Angel did the same. Jade looked at him and in the depths of her green eyes, Sketch saw her fighting spirit surface. Sketch turned back to Oscar and nodded.  
  
Oscar raised his hand, waited a few seconds, then snapped his fingers. The mixture of men and boys raced at them fiercely. As soon as one of them came in contact with her, Jade smacked the unfortunate one with an angry fist. He fell sprawling. The fight began to get intense, men and boys fighting as fiercely as the small Newsie band. Soon both sides began to weaken, but Oscar's men had the upper hand. Just when Sketch began to have second thoughts about getting into this fight, a flash of light from the doorway caught his eye. He punched the unfortunate in front of him and squinted in the light. Four figures stood in the doorway, one with familiar broad shoulders.   
  
His breath quickened and his pulse raced as the former leader of Brooklyn, his father, stepped into the midst of the brawl. A warning yell sounded out, causing Sketch to whirl around just in time to see the hulking man running at him. Quickly, he ducked, the man flying over his head. A large hand smacked him on the back, and Sketch looked up into the gray eyes of Spot Conlon. "Papa, I, I didn't mean," He stuttered. Spot put up his hand. "Don't worry 'bout it. We'll tawk 'bout it lata. Right now we got business ta attend ta." Spot said with a grin. Sketch laughed as he looked around him. "Who'd ya bring?" He yelled over the hubbub, as he turned from his father to rejoin the fight, his father doing the same. "Aw, no one big, jest Race an' Bright Eyes an' yer Wolf friend. But still, nothin' but da best I guess." Sketch frowned and turned around to see his father kick a boy across the room. "Mama ain't here?" He asked.  
  
Spot colored and punched another man in the face. "Naw, she's wit' Gabriel." He said. Sketch's mouth dropped open. "Ya didn't tell her?" He said, his voice filled with disbelief. Spot shrugged. "So? Do I hafta invite yer mudda ta every fight I git mixed inta? I mean seriously, I'd like ta have me moment of glory widout yer mudda showin' me up every time!" Spot said defensively. "You are so gonna be dead!" Sketch laughed loudly. "You jest shudup an' fight boy!" Spot said gruffly, but with a twinkle in his eye. From that point on, the fight was basically over. Once many of the men, many former Newsies themselves, caught sight of Spot, they began to run towards the nearest exits. But many stayed and toughed it out, coming back for more punches.  
  
Spot soon found himself being edged into a corner by a hulking man, who wasn't giving up no matter how many "hints" Spot gave him. The beads of sweat stuck out on Spot's forehead as he fought harder, trying to push him back away from him. But suddenly, in what seemed like a mere second, the man was gone, sprawled out on the floor unable to move. Spot stared at him for a moment, then glanced at his side. Blue stood there, eyeing her fist admiringly. She raised her blue-green eyes demurely and winked. "How many times is dat now Spot? Huh? I tink dats 'bout ova a hunred times I've saved yer butt ain't it?" She asked. Spot grinned and leaned over towards her. "I tink dat yer wrong. You cain't even count, but I'm sure dat its lowa dan a hunred. No more dan twenty I'm sure." He replied.   
  
Blue rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "Sure, sure Conlon. You are so busted fer not tellin' me 'bout dis." She said seriously. Then Spot's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. "Blue! Where's Gabriel? You didn't leave him alone didja?" He asked, panic rising in his voice. Blue stared at him in disbelief. "You tink I'd do dat? Ta me own kid? Geez danks fer da vote of confidence Conlon. As ta Gabriel, ya know as opinionated as dat Rose Kelly is, she kin be mighty persuasive when ya tell her dat yer husband is gonna git killed by a buncha hoodlems." Blue said, eyeing Spot. Spot stared at her in disbelief. "Ya little liar." He muttered. Blue threw her hands in the air. "C'mon Spot. It wasn't a lie. If I hadn't been here ya woulda been jest anudda splatta on da wall. DAT ain't a lie." She said pointedly.  
  
Her blue-green eyes surveyed the scene, catching hold of Sketch as he landed a swift punch to a man's face. "You git a chance ta tawk ta him?" Blue whispered. Spot shook his head, not looking at her. "Ya gotta Spot." She said, taking hold of his large hand. "I know. But right now we need ta help him." Spot replied walking out amidst the brawl with Blue on his heels. Quickly, the rest of the gang was dispatched. The group stood in a circle, panting. "Well I guess we done it huh?" Quincy breathed. "You betcha! Fair an' square!" Sketch replied. Jade's hawk-like eyes jumped to attention at a sight behind them. "Osca!!" She shrieked. Sketch whirled around to face Oscar, his uninjured hand raising the pistol towards Spot's turned back.   
  
Sketch looked at Oscar then back to his father in a flash of a moment before running and pushing his father down as the bullet rang free. The bullet whizzed over their heads, landing in the wall behind them. Spot looked up at Sketch, his eyes betraying his amazement. Sketch grinned bashfully and jumped to his feet. "Dat ain't playin' fair Osca!" Oscar grinned and took a step forward. "So? Dis is da final round. No rules." Oscar took another step forward but stopped as hands grasped his neck, pulling him down. He began to choke, dropping his gun as he tried to pry the arms off his neck. But whoever it was had a firm grip on his neck.   
  
But finally Oscar slung the person around, revealing Angel grasping his arm, temporarily stunned. Oscar grabbed her with his good arm, holding her fast by her neck. Bright Eyes took a step forward, but a pale Racetrack put his hand in front of her. Spot took a step forward. In a stroke of bravery, Oscar painfully grasped the gun with his injured hand, pointing it straight at Spot. "Come anudda step an' I'll kill you an' her Conlon." Spot stopped and held up his hands. "We kin woik dis out Osca. Jest put da goil down." He said in a wheedling tone. Oscar shook his head, painfully pointing the gun at Angel's head.   
  
"You give yerself up an' den mebey I'll consider it." Oscar said. "Never!" Sketch yelled angrily, taking an angry step forward but it was stopped by Jade stepping in front of him. "Not now Sketch! You don't wanna set him off!" Jade hissed furiously. "He's gonna kill our fadda! We gots ta do sometin'." Sketch whispered furiously. Jade nodded patiently, but didn't move from her spot. "We gots ta let dis play out. Papa knows what he's doin'." She whispered. Sketch took another look at the scene in front of him and shook his head. "So what's it gonna be Conlon? Give yerself up an' Bright's goil goes free, or ya don't an' ya both die. Its dat simple." Oscar said, giving his tell-tale grin. 


	32. Be Someone

"Wassa matta Conlon. I woulda tought dat you'd be to eager ta help yer former goil?" Spot flinched quickly as Oscar spat out the words, but in a second he was tall and erect once more. "I mean, her dawta could die. Yeah, dis goil, her dawta dat coulda been yers huh? If Bright hadn't fallen in love with' da Gambla ova dere." Dere was an explosion of angry yells from Racetrack, who tried his best to fight past Bright Eyes' protective barrier. "You don't know what yer tawkin' 'bout Osca an' yer stoopin' too low dis time!" He yelled angrily. "What? You didn't know 'bout Bright's little love affair?" Racetrack stared at him indignantly. "Yeah, she an' Spot were real pally before she fell fer ya." Oscar grinned. Then he cocked his head and stared at Racetrack in mock sadness. "She neva tell ya 'bout dat? But dat figures. Dis IS Bright Eyes. Always da liar. You know Spot. She left ya wit' no reasons or answers, didn't even tell ya actually. Ya had ta watch her leave yerself. An' Race, she left you widout any answers too. An' neva told ya dat Spot was da reason she left Brooklyn. Yeah. Good ol' Bright Eyes." Oscar murmured.  
  
Bright Eyes stared at Oscar, her face pale. "Oh an' Race, you wanna know why she neva told ya or anyone else fer dat matta?" Oscar asked. Racetrack's face was solid stone, completely unmoving. "Because she didn't want Spot's popularity ta git hoit. Ain't dat sweet? She didn't tell you even afta you was married because of Spot's popularity. Hmm. Who do ya tink she really loves Gambla? Huh?" Racetrack stared pale-faced at Oscar, then turned to Bright Eyes. She didn't speak, they merely stared at each other, their eyes locking. Finally he turned away, back to Oscar. "Let me dawta go Osca. Dis ain't worth nothin'." He said tiredly.   
  
"Naw I tink it is. Much more worth it. Ya know Wolfy, it was nice of ya ta set all dis up. Git da Higgins an' da Conlons all in one place jest fer me. Danks." Oscar said, nodding generously in Wolf's direction. "Now Conlon, make up yer mind. Whats yer choice?" Oscar asked, his voice once more turning steely. Blue stepped up closer to Spot, her hand grasping his. His eyes glanced down at her temporarily before flickering up at Angel, her frightened face, then at Oscar.   
  
Wolf stared, his heart full and angry. Stared at the Brooklyn leader, stared at Angel's parents, stared at Sketch and Jade, both so different yet alike, stared at Angel, her face beginning to turn from it's healthy rose color to a white, her breath restricted, coming out in short puffs as Oscar's grip on her neck grew tighter. He shut his eyes angrily, but even in darkness her helpless blue eyes stared at him. He opened them and they were there once more. Spot took a step forward. Quincy and Raven started, Racetrack stared in horror, Bright Eyes began to yell, Blue put her hand on her mouth, Sketch yelled and began to run forward, Jade placed her body in front of his, holding him back, Angel rolling her eyes back in her head, she couldn't breath, she couldn't breath.  
  
Wolf didn't even hear himself scream, didn't feel the pain in his arm as he leapt upon Oscar. Had Oscar not been injured, the bullet would have gone right into Wolf's heart. But he was hurt just enough that the bullet missed Wolf completely as he knocked Oscar to the ground. He pushed Angel's weak body out of the way, Bright Eyes running to her. Wolf stared at Oscar, his blue eyes wide and furious. "You leave dem alone. Look at 'em. You had a kid. You didn't want him ta die eida did ya? But he is. You cain't change dat, but ya kin hona him by leavin' udda kids alone. Look at dem." Wolf hissed angrily, pointing to Bright Eyes and Racetrack, holding onto Angel closely. "Is dat what you did when you found yer kid? You wanted ta kill 'em. What's it gonna do if you go an' kill someone else's kid an' cause dem pain? You already did dat ta me. Ya took me fadda an' me mudda. Don't do it again."  
  
Oscar stared up at Wolf, his eyes almost uncomprehending of the boy's words. "Osca, I've spent most of me life lookin' fer ya ta kill ya. Now I've realized dat you ain't woith it. Go back ta robbin' big businesses. I ain't got nothin' ta do wit' ya no more." Wolf shook Oscar's collar as he stood up, staring at him before breaking it off and walking steadily to Angel. She stared at him, then back at Oscar still lying on the floor and took his hand. Oscar sat up, stared at them, and eyed the pistol on the floor beside him. He had one bullet left. Bullets shouldn't be wasted. He grasped it uneasily, Wolf's words still ringing in his ears.  
  
He picked it up, aimed it at the small of Wolf's back, and cocked it. He sat, waiting till his nausea passed, till his cowardice passed and aimed. As he began to pull the trigger, small hands grasped his head, pulling his body downwards. The gun went off, shattering the ceiling. The group stared at Oscar, then at the children swarming down the hall. Falcon Kelly took Oscar's head from the former body and slammed it into the floor, unconsiousness taking him over. He grinned and smacked his hands together. "Great woik leada! Dat was some fine woik, grabbin' him 'fore he could shoot Wolf!" Falcon said proudly to Flames. Flames grinned as he sat on Oscar's chest. "Yeah I did do good didn't I? You wasn't bad yerself Kelly." Flames said, putting an arm around Falcon's shoulder. Falcon grinned shyly. "Not as good as you did trippin' Morris back dere." Falcon countered. "Well I admit dat was a stroke of genius on my part, but you an' da uddas played a great part." Flames said with a smile.  
  
Sketch looked at his little brother as he stood up off of Oscar's chest and stood awkwardly to the side. Sketch walked quickly over to him and drew him into his arms. Flames sat there awkwardly for a moment, before he gently put his arms around Sketch's neck. Finally they drew apart and the two brothers looked at each other. "Sketch, why'd ya run away? Is it my fault? I tought it was but," Sketch put his finger over his little brother's mouth and shook his head. "Naw it wasn't you. It was me stupid mind playin' tricks on me. I thought dat Papa didn't care 'bout me anymore 'cause I didn't wanna be leada." Sketch murmured. Flames stared at him in bewilderment. "You kiddin'? You thought he fergot 'bout ya? When Papa was trainin' it was 'Sketch does it like dis,' or 'Ya know Sketch's technique is betta'. He didn't fergit 'bout ya!" Sketch stared at his brother in amazement. "Really?" He murmured. "Yeah really. Ya tink I'd lie? He missed ya Sketch." Flames whispered.   
  
Sketch nodded and set Flames on the ground, walking over to where his father stood with his mother, surrounded by all the younger Conlons. Spot saw him coming and stepped away from the crowd. "Hey." Spot said. "Hey yerself." Sketch retorted, feeling uncomfortable. There was a moments silence before Sketch began to speak. "Well I, I don't really know what ta say. I mean, I ran off 'cause I didn't tink you wanted me aroun', an'," Spot cut him off. "Why would you tink dat?" He asked. "Mebey 'cause ya spent all yer time wit' Flames an' none wit' me." Sketch retorted. Spot stared at him. "I guess I sorta did dat huh? I didn't mean ta Sketch. I was jest caught up wit' it. I didn't fergit 'bout ya. How could I fergit 'bout you anyway? Yer my son. Da foist son I eva had before Flames." Spot said fondly. Sketch eyed him. "You called him 'Slingshot'." He said, putting his hands on his chest.   
  
To Sketch's surprise, Spot blushed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Ta tell ya da truth, dat slipped me tongue. At dat moment he looked jest like you did when you was a kid an', it jest slipped. I'm sorry 'bout dat." He said uncomfortably. "If it makes any difference, Flames was really mad 'bout it. He turned 'round an' he said, 'Papa, whaddya tinkin'? I'm Flames! Now yer upsettin' me concentration by callin' me by Sketch's name!'" Spot laughed. Sketch stared at him in amazement. "But I thought dat you was mad at me fer not wantin' ta be leada." He murmered. Spot stared at him in confusion. "Where'd you git dat idea?" He asked. "Well, you, I dunno. You jest looked at me weird when I told ya." Spot looked at him and shook his head. "I jest thought dats all you wanted ta do. It jest took me by surprise dats all. I wasn't mad at ya."   
  
Sketch stared at Spot and shook his head. "Oh. Well, I, I dunno what ta tink. I feel like such an' idiot." Sketch muttered. "If it makes ya feel any betta, I feel more like an' idiot dan you." Sketch looked up at his father, waiting for him to continue. "I mean, I ignored ya widout meanin' to. But I did. I'm sorry fer dat." Sketch looked down at the floor, his face red. But when he looked up, his pride was evident in his face. "Papa, I'm proud ta be yer son. I mean, I'm glad dat you wasn't mad when I said I didn't wanna be leada. Bein' leada jest ain't sometin' dats suited ta me. I'd radda do sometin' else. But dat don't mean dat I don't appreciate ya an' love ya. I do. An' I'm sorry dat I hoit ya by runnin' off." Sketch said strongly.   
  
Spot looked at his son, shook his head and smiled. "Yer a much betta kid dan I eva was Sketch. An' most likely you'll be a much betta man. I'm glad fer dat." Spot said gruffly, taking his son into his arms. Sketch threw his arms around his father and father and son were reunited. Blue looked up at them and smiled before turning back down to listen to Flames' summarization of the whole event. "An' Mama! I'm gonna do more stuff like dis soon!" He said happily. Instantly Blue looked down at her son and shook her head. "Na-uh! You might be leada of Brooklyn, but I'm still yer mudda an' you'll do as I say. An' I kin tell you dis, you'll tink twice before puttin' yer bruddas in anudda mess like dis again!" She said firmly. Flames' face fell and he looked to Spot, who looked down at him and shrugged. "Sorry kid. She's da boss." He said resolve. Flames crossed his arms across his chest. "But you'se is da man of da house." Flames insisted. "Yeah, but lemme tell ya's a little secret." Spot said, leaning down towards Flames. "I gotta let yer Mama tink dat she's got full reign ova da household, but doncha worry. Soon you an' me, we'll rebel." Spot whispered. Blue rolled her eyes. "I heaid dat." She muttered before shouldering Trouble. "Whaddya gonna do wit' Delancy?" Blue asked. "Well didn't tink 'bout dat. I'll give him a half hour for him ta wake up an' shove outta here 'fore I call da bulls on him. I tink he'll comply." Spot yelled loudly. Oscar flicked an eyelid, then sat straight up and ran out of the room. Spot and Blue began to laugh loudly, knowing he wouldn't be back.  
  
Sketch grinned as Wolf sidled up to him, his blue eyes sparkling. "Heya Conlon. Kinda weird callin' ya dat. Ya know?" He said. Sketch grinned and shrugged. "It's still me. Conlon or not. So." Sketch said, unsure of what to say next. "So." Wolf echoed. "I wanna dank ya Sketch. Dank ya fer helpin' me out an' all dat. Even dough ya LIED," Wolf said, placing emphasis on da final word. "Even dough ya lied, I still regard ya as me friend an', an' I respect ya. Always will." Wolf said, putting out his hand. Sketch shook his head, spit into his hand and held it out. Wolf stared at Sketch, then at his outstretched hand. "What is dis? You Newsies' way of hygiene?" He asked. "I dunno. We jest always does it. Seals a bargain." Sketch said, shrugging. "Alrighty den. But if anyone asks I'm just sharin' da love here." Wolf muttered, eyeing his hand, spitting on it and shaking hands with Sketch.   
  
Angel glanced at her parents. They were both happy, both grateful for their children's lives, but they were still not united in their happiness. Angel knew what it was about. Her mother had tried to speak to her father, but he had pushed her away. She shook her head. She glanced over at Wolf, finally reunited with his boys. He spoke a few parting words to them and the group left. He walked over to her and smiled. "Hey. Jest told 'em ta go do whateva. I'll meet 'em next week." He said. "Whaddya gonna do now dat it's all ova?" Angel asked. Wolf gave a small chuckle before continuing. "Well I really don't know. An' dats da truth. I really don't. I was jest tinkin' 'bout dat. I mean, me an' da boys have been trough so much already dat I'd hate ta leave 'em." Wolf shook his head sadly.  
  
"Ya eva thought 'bout bein' a Newsie?" Angel asked. Wolf looked up at her, his black eyebrows raised. " 'Cause I mean, I know dat it'd be a big difference from huntin' down people but hey, it pays okay an' you git ta woik honestly." Angel explained. Wolf chuckled. "Tryin' ta make me an' honest guy huh Angel?" Angel crossed her arms across her chest. "Well dats da only way Mama an' Papa would eva let me see ya again anyway." She pointed out. Wolf looked at her and smiled. "Dang you tink of everytin' doncha Angel?" He asked. "Yeah pretty much." She replied, a self-satisfied smile on her face.  
  
There was a few moments of silence before Wolf broke it. "Um, dat was a really brave ting dat you did back dere. He coulda killed ya." Wolf murmured, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably. Angel nodded. "It was hard ta do. But I did it anyway. Dere was too much at stake ta not do it." She said. "Ya know wit' as much bravado an' courage dat I CLAIM ta have, I dunno if I coulda done dat, done what you did." Angel cocked her head. "But you did Wolf. You jumped Osca fer me. Ya jumped him an' tried ta git him ta change his mind. Dat was probably braver dan what I did. You not only tried ta save me but everyone else there, including Spot."   
  
Wolf shook his head. "Don't make me da hero Angel. I ain't no hero. I'm jest anudda bum on da streets wit' no brain an' no name." Angel reached out and grasped his hand. "You ain't no bum. An' you gots a brain. Dere's no way dat ya coulda planned all dat stuff out widout one. No way. An' hey, I know you got a name. Yer Wolf ta me. An' yer Wolf ta everyone here. You got a name. I got you an' you got me. So how kin ya say dat yer nothin'?" Angel whispered. Wolf looked up at Angel and for a moment, understanding entered his eyes. "Yer amazin' Angel." He whispered. Angel grinned and squeezed his hand tighter. "Amazin's my middle name, Mistah." She whispered. Wolf grinned and leaned his head onto hers, standing still in a moment, finally feeling that perhaps, he could be someone.  
  
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	33. At the Beginning With You

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Bright Eyes kissed her older children as they walked off to their bedrooms. Racetrack wasn't there. He'd left a little time after they'd tucked the younger children in and he hadn't been back since. As she reached for Grabs, she saw the sparkle in his deep brown eyes, his cocky grin, and for a moment, seventeen year old Racetrack stood before her, looking deeply into her eyes as the rain fell upon them, right before their first kiss. But she blinked and the vision vanished, smiling Grabs still standing before her. She held out her hands and pressed him to her, gently rocking him back and forth. Grabs large hands rested on her back, waiting for her to let go. But a moment later, he whispered in her ear, "Try Central Park Mama. Dats where he said he was gonna go." Bright Eyes let him go and smiled thankfully. "Thank you. Now go to bed. I love you." She whispered. "Don't worry Mama. I'll look afta da uddas. I love ya too!" Grabs whispered, tiptoeing to the back rooms.  
  
Bright Eyes shook her head and quickly rushed out the door, closing it quietly. She ran as fast as her feet would take her to Central Park. In the distance, the thunder rumbled, ominous and dark. She rushed inside the park gates, her eyes searching for him wildly. Had he forgotten her? Would he not want her anymore? Did she ruin everything? All these thoughts ran through her mind as she rushed through the park, her eyes searching in the shadows for his slight figure. Her lips were silent, but inwardly she was screaming hysterically, crying, calling his name.   
  
Don't leave me!  
  
I won't neva leave ya Bright. Neva.  
  
Would he remember? Remember that night when she dreamed her nightmare? That night when he had come and held her, waited till she fell asleep. Did he care? He was all she had. He was her world. She cared more for him than she had for anyone. He was her husband, her soul-mate, her life. No one, not even Spot Conlon or Oscar Delancy would rip them apart. This is what her mind screamed. Finally she stopped dead in her tracks. She saw him. He was sitting there by himself on the park bench. Beyond the gate lay the racetracks. She knew this place. It was in this place that they'd both professed their love in a single kiss.   
  
She walked quietly, tentatively to him, not sure of what to do, what to say.   
  
How do you tell your husband that you were once in love with one of the most powerful leaders of all the districts? Her mind questioned.   
  
ONCE. ONCE being the key word. You love HIM. You loved Spot yes. But you love Racetrack NOW. He is the present. He is the future. Her heart whispered.   
  
This filled her with new hope, new confidence as she sat down beside her husband. Racetrack straightened somewhat, then relaxed, his eyes staring at the far-off trees peppering the park. Bright Eyes looked up at him, then down at the ground. "What are you tinkin'?" She asked quietly. Racetrack looked down, then shrugged. "Dunno. Dats why I came here. Da thoughts was all mixed up." He said quietly. "You hate me?" She whispered. Racetrack looked down at her sharply. "Dat what you tink?" He asked. Bright Eyes looked up at him. "Well dats how yer kinda makin' out. Ya wouldn't tawk ta me at all tenight an' we usually tawk stuff ova tegedda. An' afta what Osca said I," Racetrack interuppted her with a groan. "You tink I'm takin' Osca DELANCY serious? C'mon Bright, gimme more credit dan dat." Racetrack protested. Bright Eyes nodded. "Good. Jest seemed like he struck a chord dere." She commented.  
  
Racetrack sat back, eyed the trees once more, then looked at Bright Eyes. "Is it true?" He asked. Bright Eyes looked up at him. "Is it true dat you an' Spot was tegedda? An' dat his popularity is da reason dat ya didn't tell me?" He asked quietly. Bright Eyes nodded. "Yeah. We was tegedda. But nothin' serious. I mean we wasn't even really lovers eida. We just stuck tegedda an' fought an' stuff. We wasn't a good match an' I saw dat. I didn't tell ya because I wanted ta do Spot dat one fava. I felt really bad walkin' out on him like dat. Dats why I did it. It had nothin' ta do wit' you at all. I neva meant fer it ta drag out dis long. I actually fergot 'bout it, but not really. I jest fergot an' fer dat I'm sorry." Bright Eyes whispered urgently.  
  
Racetrack looked down at her at the sound of her urgency and grasped her hand. "Hey, hey. I know. I know all dat. I know dat you'd neva eva do nothin' ta hoit me. An' I know, I believe dat yer tellin' da truth." He said fervently. "Oh I am Race. I am." She said. Racetrack nodded. "Yeah I know. I mean, I don't care how many guys you was wit' before me. You know why?" Bright Eyes frowned and shook her head. " 'Cause dey all lost an' I won. I've got ya Brighty. You an' me is bound tegedda an' dere's nothin', nobody dat kin break dat. We's got nine beautiful kids tegedda an' we got a life. You tink I'd trough it away because ol' Delancy made it out woise dan it was?" Racetrack scoffed. Bright Eyes stared at him in amazement. "I love ya so much. You know dat?" She whispered.   
  
Racetrack began to laugh. He cupped her face in his hands and whispered, "Bright Eyes, I'll be a dead man before I let anyone tear you an' me apart. We've come to far to let dat happen. I won't neva let dat happen. I love you more dan dat. I love you more dan an idiot's word on a subject long dead." He whispered urgently. Bright Eyes stared into his eyes, so full of love and urgency that she began to cry. "Hey you. Dis is meant ta make ya happy." Racetrack whispered with a smile as he pressed her close to him. "Oh I am. I ain't neva been more happier. I was jest so afraid dat you," She sobbed. "Dat I was gonna believe Delancy? Yeah well. Anudda man woulda. An' he woulda left ya too. Dat woulda been awful, stuck wit' all da kids. Yeah. But I woulda taken all da savin's. Dat would really be a stab in da back huh?" He joked. Bright Eyes sobbed and smacked his arm. "It ain't supposed ta be funny!" She muttered as she wiped her tears away.  
  
"Yeah it is!" Racetrack laughed, almost falling off the bench, until Bright Eyes did so herself. Racetrack fell onto the ground and laughed. Bright Eyes stood up and stared at him, shaking her head. "You jest gonna stand dere? Help me up!" Racetrack yelled through his laughter. Bright Eyes began to laugh as she reached out her hands and Racetrack pulled her down to the ground. Finally they sat up against the park bench, trying to calm their hysterical laughter. "We look like a buncha idiots! Two thoity year olds laughin' here on da ground!" Racetrack laughed. "You stawted it!" Bright Eyes protested, wiping at her eyes. "You know where we are doncha?" Racetrack asked. Bright Eyes looked at him curiously. "Our foist kiss." He reminded her quietly. "You remembered?" Bright Eyes whispered reverently. "How could I fergit da place where my life began?" Racetrack whispered. As he spoke, the thunder rumbled, and with it raindrops began to sprinkle around them.  
  
"If I recall correctly, it was rainin', an' I wanted ta git ya outta da rain. An' den we jest kinda leaned ova an'," Racetrack never finished his sentence. He leaned in as Bright Eyes did and the two shared a kiss too perfect to describe. The storm had come, the storm had raged, the storm had passed, the earthly fire gone, the soul's fire alive till the end of time.   
  
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*Author's Note*: Hey ya'll! Hope you liked the story! Just for a little bit of useless information,(now I'm not entirely sure on details so if someone knows more about this than I do, don't yell at me! I'm just telling what I THINK I know.) :-) Oscar Delancy was actually the leader of some mafia type organization. Like I said, dunno if it was the mafia, (I doubt it) but he was in a type of gang. You know. Terrorizing the streets of New York. Maybe Oscar ran through and scared people with his scary smile! (Watch "Newsies" and look for Oscar when they're at the Distribution Office after first hearing about the price jack-up. SHEW! HE'S SCAAAARRRRYY!! Da devil himself I tell ya!) ;-) And unless my sibling's information is wrong, he and Morris got a street named after 'em. (remember? Delancy Street?) Yeah. So anyway. Shew. The Bright Eyes series is done. Wow. It's weird that I've written four stories already. Whew. I'm not gonna say that I won't write another one though because every time I do I always end up writing another one. :-) I mean, this fourth story almost didn't exist, but thanks to my sibling urging me along, it eventually got written. Thanks you guys for all your support. This one's for you. Thanx! 


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